Agent: Outlaw
by Agent Vanguard
Summary: Some call him a menace, some call him an even bigger menace. A man who lives at the fringes, comfortable in the underworld below civilization, has been forced into the spotlight to help stop a galactic threat. The Reapers are coming, and no hiding will save him from the cataclysm; better to join forces with the first human Spectre to save his hide, and if time allows, other people.
1. Entry 1: The Last Job

**Entry 1**

**Mark 0265 of CE 2183**

**The Last Job**

"Hmmhmhmm~"

Nothing like the sight of rolling hills; of vegetation flowing in the summer wind, great waves cresting up and over the dales with each gust. Sometimes those gales were joined by dark stretches that glided alongside every crest, clouds that barely hampered the sun lazily making their way across the sky.

"_Speak softly love,_"

A hushed tune sung with barely a whisper came from the shadowed brush. A smooth, bored muzzle of dark metal jutted out from amidst the verdant green, the scope tailing just behind and above it.

"_And hold me warm against your heart~_"

A mechanical whirl sounded in a tone to match the singer, a hushed utterance as it brokered sight far beyond normal eyes. Several hundred meters of distance closed in an instant, to a harsh rebuttal against the fertility of the region to a condensation of grey and smog; industry encroaching upon the natural beauty of this place.

"_I feel your words,_"

A targeting reticle slithered over its metallic expanse, panning to the ground where a transport lay at rest; corporate markings dictating its ownership matching those found on the building itself. A hideous conglomerate of EAE made to be flashy and memorable in a hideously neon green color; the symbol of Eldfell-Ashland Energy.

"_The tender trembling of moments start~_"

Another vehicle was surveyed, this one more suited to combat; a gunship that sat idle with its bay doors open, accepting cargo taken from the interior of the building, bypassing the obvious transportation that sat nearby. The reason was clear, as two men bearing that hideous corporate symbol sat on their knees, arms held behind their heads. Another man paced behind them, assault rifle ready in his armored hands; itching to be used on anything that moved. Armor of brown and black, almost piecemealed together and certainly not of traditional military grade.

"_We're in a world, our very own~_"

The face was certainly not human, as a quartet of eyes squinted with barely-contained bloodlust at the hapless couriers. A barked command, another shouting back with heavy boots clanging down the gunship's ramp; this one bearing a lone pistol at his side. Both four-eyes spoke with each other, a hover trolley scooting behind the newcomer as he directed it inside; opting on a few more words with his colleague. A laugh is shared between them, and the second moves after his emptied trolley; probably to secure more in the gunship.

"_Sharing our love that only few have ever known~_"

The muzzle explodes in a flash, sending a munition straight into the rifleman's brain; not even enough time to process a death rattle with his grey matter offering a fresh coat of color to the building in the span of an eye blinking.

"_Wine-colored days warmed by the sun,_"

Realizing their handler was now little more than a headless lawn ornament, both couriers stood and made a run for the opposite side of the building; running as fast as their legs could take them.

A shout from the emerging pistoleer didn't even halt them, sidearm drawn as he ran back outside to investigate.

"_Deep velvet nights when we are one~_"

The shout turned into a gurgle as a sniper round tore right through his pitiful shields. His last spasms of life an unknown dance to the tune sung by his killer.

"_Speak softly, loves so no one hears us but the sky~_"

A window was smashed out from the building, the butt of an assault rifle shattering panels before it as another batarian took aim for the intruder. Two others strode out, their armor a bit more impressive than the two who offered their bodily fluids for decorative purposes.

"_The vows of love we make will live until we die~_"

Another muzzle flash, the soldier trying to cover his ground forces now joined them; with a new orifice where his heart should be. Both renaming soldiers surged forward, spraying fire into the brush as they sought cover.

"_My life is yours and all because,_"

The muzzle retreats into the forest's tapestry, the barrel red hot and threatening to catch fire. Its wielder folded in on itself, tucking it away as legs sprinted from the vantage point. A few wild bullets bounced harmlessly against a translucent blue screen around him as he leapt and dashed through foliage. More bullets blazed fruitlessly after him, unknowing where he vanished in the sea of greens and blacks; rifles flared their owners' anger, both men following after their unknown adversary, charging forward over and behind cover as they went. Both lay down suppressing fire through the greenery, until they were close enough to begin growing cautious.

"_You came into my world with love, so softly love~_"

The two startled at the song sung so clearly for them, as from the brush leapt a whirl of machinery and metal screeching on four legs. Dog-like movements and heavy shields repelled the frightened volley that came for it. The mechanical beast laid into one soldier, as the other found a fresh and bloody hole in his shoulder; the howl of gunfire echoing but once behind them.

Screaming went to silence in an instant, the heavy breathing of the lone pirate left alive all that filled the air. His rifle fell to the ground as he struggled to turn, to see the smoking barrel just a few meters behind him. It phased into view, as though drawn from behind some invisible curtain slowly; followed by an arm clad in greens and blacks with a wild white stripe racing down to join both colors on a lean chest of medium armor.

Slowly stepping into existence from thin air, their hunter emerged. Just edging over six feet of lean torso and long dancer legs, with a face hidden behind a breathing mask and dark-glassed goggles formed into a helmet that slid along his head. The pistol bore no semblance to the usual array of sidearms one sees on humans; a long, singular barrel with a lone black revolving chamber that spat heat from its center.

The four eyes blinked tiredly back, unable to fight off the growing unease of blood loss, foots staggering to fall back.

"Damn….y...you ...hu-" His mouth couldn't finish, cut off by a second howl of gunfire.

As he collapsed, the human meandered forward, humming delightfully as you please. Sidearm holstered with a twirl, he maneuvered himself forward to the corpses. Prying fingers sought hidden pockets and satchels, taking what could be worthwhile; credits, munitions, and anything of value were plucked from their dead owners.

Their weapons were stacked upon the back of the beast at his side, standing stiffly as only a synthetic could. Magnetic grips kept them synched tight onto its canine form. Grey and deep green marks ran over its body, jagged and violent colorings along its mastiff-like form. The head bore no muzzle or snout, rather a singular glass dome blinking lights along a vaguely-canine head. Two long cables withdrew from the ground near where the dead batarian lay, the twin taser lines withdrawing into portholes upon its chest.

"Let's see." A musing voice spoke from behind the mask, "Whaddaya think, Dak? Maybe, extra 4k creds for this?"

The robotic dog merely shifted the glassed gaze up, and it lit up with a mechanical, "**Bark**."

"You're right, stuff's in pretty crap condition, so 2.5k at most." He answers blithely, making his way down the warpath of his two victims. Bounty in tow, the odd pair headed for where the two hostages bolted.

"Dak, initiate Job Complete protocol."

"**Bark.**"

"Good boy." Rounding the corner of the building, he looked around for the two jumpsuits; spotting them quite easily amidst the flora nearby. They were scared, unknowing if this was some new threat come to hold them at gunpoint.

"Hey fellas, good to come out." He called over, making sure to communicate that he knew exactly where they were, hidden eyes facing right towards them. Shifting movements, obvious attempts to remain hidden as they conversed with each other. Distrusting, scared, maybe even traumatized; probably the biggest threat in their daily lives was an upset wife, not gun-toting pirates waving a quick death in their faces. Poor bastards, he thought to himself, probably only had machismo from daydreams of badassery to draw on for experience in dealing with these situations. They were high on adrenaline with only fight or flight on their minds, he needed them calm and to come out of their own accord.

Hands reached for his mask, unhitching the rebreather portion first, the hiss of escaping air joining the soft chorus of wind sweeping in. Reddened-bronze skin shaped around a hawkish pointed chin, itself bearing a thin layer of ebon hair shaping around its point and stretching to the bottom lip; curved up in a slight smirk. The smile was tainted by a deep groove of scarred skin, running from just under the mouth to where a sharp nose peeked out, its right nostril now marred but barely. The eyes emerged, high and thin, the gaze of a predator; though no natural irises peeked out, merely circles of neon blue mimicking the stare of a normal human. The hair was now utterly freed, drifting down to barely hover over his ear; rooting into a long and flowing ponytail.

Holding the helmet in his hand, "My name's Kurt LeGrange, I was hired to take care of those dicks...so c'mon out and report you guys are alive and well."

"_So I can get paid and get off this rock_", his thoughts added on. He took a step forward, trying to meet them halfway.

Another moment with no results. Another tick of his patience wearing thin. Another step forward.

FInally, a pair of hands emerged from the brush, held up in the air as the body followed. Two burly fellows emerged; one maybe in his greying years with a barrel chest, and a younger lad, probably an apprentice of some kind perhaps.

"Oh put your hands down, guys. If I wanted you dead or hurt, I would have done so." He waved off their submission. A shimmer of golden orange emerged around his arm, holographic interface of an omni-tool flaring to life. "What's your names, guys?"

The older one spoke up first, "Ray Biggs...an' uh, thanks…."

"I'm Chuck, erm, Chuck Huttle. An' yeah, thanks a lot, man ...dunno what those batarians woulda done with us after they got our codes…" The younger spoke up.

"Mmhm, well glad to help." He replied automatically, focusing on his omni-tool and reattaching his mask. Away went the hawkish face, replaced by metals and glass. "Alrighty Mr. Biggs, Mr. Huttle; you familiar with a Mr. Yang?"

Both turned to the other, "...Yeah, he's our boss' boss."

"Good to hear," With that, the omni-tool beeped in accordance and lit up green within its circle. "Mr. Yang," Kurt began, his voice now modulated once more.

"**Lakota.**" A response came through, a gruffer and more stern tone than those used by the couriers. "**You've completed the job?**"

"Yessir, got your boys here, a Mr. Biggs and a Mr. Huttle," The omni-tool is offered to them, arm held forward expectantly.

"U-uh, y-yessir...This is Raymond Biggs o-" He spoke into the communicator, promptly cut off by the voice.

"**Good, and the fuel?**"

"Not a drop has gone off-world." Kurt answered.

"**I'll be sending a security force there shortly. I'll have my accountant transfer the credits, you should see it in your account-**"

"In my account right away? Excellent, I expect to see it when I'm back on my ship."

A stammer, briefly surprised by the assumption. "**W- No, this is a process, and you will get paid as is procedure. These things take time to-**"

"Mnm yeah no. I don't like that, and I especially don't like going against my contract, which is immediate payment upon completion. Which means, if I don't see the credits in the next thirty seconds, I'm taking payment in fuel and then some. And believe you me, I am very tempted considering your security is a few hours away." A playful hum sounded, "Even under market price is a pretty tidy sum, which I'm sure Nashan Stellar would pay out for."

Silence.

"**You sunuva…**" The mumble came, a dinging sound popping up from the tool. "**There. Your damn credits from my personal account. If you-**"

"Thank you kindly, sir. You have my contact information for any future transactions." The sing-song thanks ended with a prompt wave of his hand, shutting off the call. He turned back to the jumpsuits, "Alright fellas, you're all set, Corporate Security should be here in an hour or so to take your statements."

Before another thanks was stammered out, or anything else, Kurt left them to their own devices. Setting down before both gunship and transport, comes a craft that seemed a mix of both; heavy set wings hefting up a bulbous underbelly. A turret set atop and below, the bottom one barely off the ground as the landing gear set in. The ramp folded out from underneath, allowing Dak to climb aboard, awaiting just where the ramp set out before it. He grabbed one of the manifolds and swung in, humming as he walked aboard.

Krogan may not have been known for much, but their old troop transports from the times of the Rebellion were built tough...and roomy for a single occupant. What would have been tight quarters for a five man squad of the man-sized kaiju, it had become a flying bachelor's pad with room aplenty. Shifting through sealed crates in the bottom of the hold, sitting amongst or on krogan-sized seats, he came towards the cockpit after a brief jaunt upward. There, was one of the few things that was human sized; a leather set awaiting its captain.

Peeling himself out of his armor and weapons, he set them nearby, sealing them into an armor locker. Looking below, Dak set himself down near a terminal, the glass face lighting up for but a brief moment and then going dark.

From the pilot's station, the orange holographic image of a dog appeared, big enough to fit into his hand. "**Captain. Integration successful, designate 'DAK' ready for command**."

"Good, Dak. Follow through with Job Complete protocol." The seat is buckled, a kick spinning his seat around to the opposite side of the hologram. A hand sought a department underneath the console, opening a door to reveal several canisters and small bags. Taking a cold bar of chocolate in his hands, he spun back around to watch the ship begin to break the sky. Gone was the green, gone was the sky, and now, the emptiness of space to replace the sight of the now-vanishing environs of Tyr.

Tossing the wrapper into a receptacle, he chewed what remained of the chocolate as the gains of his job were neatly tucked away.

"Dak, set a reminder next stop; have to unload extra stock." One rifle was plucked from the rest, "Oh damn." Eagerly he began to sift through it, disassembling and cleaning until a marker was found. "Hah! A genuine Mark IV Thunder...you're coming with me, baby." His task came unto a nearby crate, beginning to make it up to snuff when another ding popped up.

"**Captain. Incoming hail from unknown source.**"

His eye currently on the rifle, "Patch it through, Dak, and scrub the channels, I'm betting unknown means 'not wanting to be found'." He looked through its modified scope, "Means whoever this is...wants this as an off-the-books job."

"**Affirmative, Captain.** **Patching communication through Channel Sigma Six Five Five One.**"

"Thank you, Dak." The familiar ding followed, "High Stakes Pizza, Alliance Space's best pizza, this is Roman, how may I be of service today?"

A few moments followed, before an exasperated sigh sounded through. "**Two meatball grinders and an extra large sausage, please. It's for a Mr. K.**"

"Kurt" had to hide a snigger, "Alrighty, you know my code, so you have my ear. What you need? Oh, I don't do assassinations, so don't bother."

"**Mr. K, I appreciate your need for...caution. Allow me to lay your mind at ease, I require nothing more than a show of...force.**"

"Shakedown?"

"**In a way. I run a small venture on a colony in the Exodus that...has not been performing to my standards of business.**"

"And you want me to, what, go around and wave my gun in their faces?" He peered, coincidentally looking down the barrel of his own new rifle.

"**In a manner not so brusque, yes. I want to ensure that my promised items get off-world in a timely manner, you will be going there to…motivate them.**"

A few moments passed, his attention mostly spent upon inspecting a firing chamber. "And for this...show, how much are you willing to shell out to ensure that my performance is an inspiring one?"

"**25,000. Upfront.**"

"Serious about this, huh? Alright, I'll take it when I land... where exactly am I going?"

"**Eden Prime**."


	2. Entry 2: Primetime Show

**Entry 2**

**Mark 0294 of CE 2183**

**Primetime Show**

FTL travel never got old, staring out the pilot's viewport with light years flashing by in seconds. Feet up on the console, chair reclined back, a can of shitty soda in one hand and a bag of nuts in the other; the universe laid bare before him as his hunk of ancient metal zipped through it.

"Dak, estimated arrival in the Exodus?" The question came just before a satisfying swig did. He couldn't help the smack of his lips, the emptied can sailing behind him with a casual toss. Two clinks in succession from his flank said his three point blind shot to his waste receptacle was a miss. "Damnit."

"**Captain. Exodus Cluster arrival estimated at 31.1 minutes.**" The sudden holographic imagery of Dak popped to life on the console, the vaguely humanoid figure standing at soldier's ease with arms crossed behind his back.

"Thank you, Dak. Notify me when we're through the relay and en route to Eden Prime. I doubt the spaceports want to deal with a VI." Finally deigning to stand, K raised his arms high above his head and stretched like he had been put to the rack. He was unable to help the groan that escaped him as his sleeping muscles were forced to awaken. FIngers roamed to his rear, scratching at a sudden itch as he meandered to the bathroom.

What was now a bathroom fit for a human to install a shower would have been barely room enough to take a dump for a krogan, the small nook now sporting a nozzle with a drain in its center; still cramped, but better to be clean than comfortable.

Fresh and showered, K emerged as he did from the womb; naked and wet, but now he did so without so much screaming. A towel ran over his loose mess of hair, soon laid to rest around his shoulders as he perused through a nearby footlocker for a pair of underwear. One is found on the ground nearby instead, and a quick test sniff is given.

"Should be good." He mumbles, throwing them on with only one instance of almost tripping over himself.

"**Captain.**" Dak sounded, appearing at the console just above his mechanical canine body. "**We have arrived in the Utopia system.**"

Pants and shirt found, he jogged back onto his tiny bridge. His chair spun violently around as he leapt into it, slowing after a few rotations to come before the viewport; the ever-growing presence of an orb of green and blue lay in the vastness of space around him.

"Reminds me of Earth." An idle comment as he brought up his secondary console, the holographic imagery same as his omni-tool alighting to life all around it. His hands wove like a maestro's, taking control of the ship and beginning to adjust its course.

"**Captain. Incoming hail from the Eden Prime Department of Security, do you wish to speak with them?**"

"Ooh fancy titles for glorified gatekeepers." K mumbled to himself, "Yes, Dak, patch me through."

The hologram nodded it's non-existent head and proceeded to highlight certain parts of the interface to allow another voice to enter the conversation.

"**Vessel, you are entering Alliance space and we have you flagged as a krogan ship; please identify yourself or leave this system immediately.**" A feminine voice, no-nonsense and stern; probably the kind of person who gets a power high from threatening unknown vessels.

A roll of his cyberized eyes as he mimicked the agent's talking pattern with a flapping hand. "Roger that, this is the Albatross, under the **human** captain Kam Jefferson, just out of the Sol system. I will transmit my credentials now, I am on approach but will remain in orbit unless notified otherwise." His hand twisted an airborne dial, tossing screen after screen off the interface before opting on the one he searched for. His hand clenched around one, submitting it to the dial for it to be sent away. Fake captain for a fake ship; a necessary precaution this deep in Alliance turf.

"**Affirmed, please remain on orbit at Point 1.25 and remain until you are verified.**" A clicking sound followed, and then came the holding music; the damned annoying semi-classical tune that played ad infinitum until the call ended and freed you from the torment. K slouched back, aligning himself to begin drifting around the planet instead of to it. Another can is taken from his mini-cooler, popped open and chugged down.

"Dak," He said, belching horrendously before he could speak properly. "Dak, prep the engines just in case, and hit the afterburners if they don't get back in five minutes. I don't feel like getting tagged today."

"**Affirmative, Captain.**"

K leaned back in his chair, needing something to occupy his hands during the wait. A baseball was chosen, gently tossed up and down in barely-amusing entertainment. He tapped his foot, hating the concept of waiting; at least during sniping, he could look around and trace trails of would-be assailants, routes for escape or attack marked in his mind for when his target appeared.

A beep sounded, "**Albatross, you are cleared for landing. Proceed to Dock 12, Bay A3.**"

"Thank you, ma'am, on approach now." A wave of his hand and the chat ended. Hands back to the console, the ball hitting the ground and rolling off to places unknown and uncared. The vessel whirled around and proceeded down to the planet's surface.

Eden Prime was just as beautiful as everyone said it was. It was Earth's twin in every way, save that this world was untainted by pollution or an overabundance of urban development. The colony and its outlying towns were the only grays amongst seas of green and blue. K couldn't help the smile on his face, imagining this was more of a vacation than a job; probably could step off the ship and meander into the wilderness for a good long while.

What manner of beasts awaited in its forests? What kind of animals could he hunt for? What geographical wonders could he find? Questions arose in boundless excitement, the greenery calling back times when it would be just him, stalking through the underbrush with Dak; nothing but days of recording the ground and sky, hunting for his food and running analyses for what could be eaten. Those days of Alliance colors branded on him, under their heel with-

He snapped out of it. Those days were gone, long gone. A lifetime ago, the person who lived that way died and would never return. A scowl had somehow found its way onto his face, quick to be forced away into that familiar smile; the mask so easily slid on as he steered the nose downward.

The docks were not so much abuzz as one would think a bustling colony such as this could be, barely a few dozen ships of varying civilian degrees with nothing bigger than an Alliance corvette in the area. Probably had a frigate in orbit, something heavy to deter pirates to maintain the postcard-worthy serenity of this planet. Skycars flitted like flies, buzzing here and there around the docks as his heavy bumblebee fluttered its way in. Dock 12, he repeated in his mind, finding the place where a few corporate transports and civilian craft lay, probably off-world visitors that were not of military or alien affiliation.

The "Albatross" drew its heavy wings in, prepping its landing gear as it came into its port. He could already see a welcome wagon awaiting him on the edges of his temporary lodging; a pencil-pusher in business casual, two lightly-armed men at his side.

"Dak, finish bringing her in. I need Kam's omni-tool." He hummed, business as usual as he began strapping in a new device onto his arm. A different identity to be assumed. Kam Jefferson, a humble freelancer courier who didn't have a spot on his squeaky clean record save for one instance of lacking a license for firearms in turian space. A minor inconvenience issue, can't have a completely clean record, too suspicious.

With the Albatross loaded and revving down, the doors opened on his craft to reveal K in his simple Hydra armor, black and green meshed with the dull grey and red of the Naginata attached to his back and the silver and green markings of the revolver-like pistol at his hip. His faithful mechanical companion trekked behind him, the headcase aglow in that familiar orange light.

The bureaucrat locked in him, omni-tool at the ready. "Mr. Jefferson, welcome to Eden Prime. A formality for first-timers here, would you mind filling out some paperwork?" Heavy glasses, thicker than a krogan's skull, seemed like; too poor to afford or too stubborn to get cybernetics or corrective surgery. Small stature, weak posture; this was a long day, or rather, a long month or year for this man, hated this job more or less with a shitty home life perhaps. Deep bags under his eyes, little sleep. The men at his side were definitely private sector security, lackluster demeanor with eyes barely sharp. He could kill the three of them before they could grasp that something actually happened on the job.

Analysis over, "Not at all, Mister…?" He lead on, bringing up his own omni-tool to peruse the document. Simple docking procedures and charges accrued for refueling and renting the space; him now beginning to fill in the lines. Best method to deal with this man was to be cordial, but not overtly friendly; he wanted this job over and done with and to get back to anything else.

"Reis Buckman."

"Mr. Buckman." He repeats, sifting through the onslaught of words laid before him. "I heard Eden Prime is beautiful, glad it lives up to the name."

"It is, and what brings you here, I may ask? Few people come out their way unless they think about a permanent residence or for trade."

K shrugged, "A friend of mine lives here, and we're going to go hiking out in the wilderness for a spot...hey, between you and me, any good wildlife to hunt?"

"Yes, and from your records, you are issued a standard license...the only fauna I'd recommend is the starzelle, looked like a five-legged gazelle with three horns, get a few herds around here of them. No big time game, I'm afraid." Practiced answers, probably knew just what was told him from a sheet; no idea what animals lurk beyond his little world of desk life.

K just smiled, writing off the credits needed for his weeklong stay. "Ah good, between you and me, my friends a piss poor shot, and I'd rather not have his life in my hands if there's anything more deadly than a pyjak." He belted out a laugh, swiping away the document back to Buckman.

A nervous laugh followed, "And...your…mech?" His eyes peered down at the mechanical dog, sitting at the newcomer's heels.

"Ah, my modified FENRIS mech, say hello, Dak."

"**Bark.**" The monotone and robotic voice seemed to unnerve the three dockworkers but slightly.

"Helps with tracking, will come in handy taking down these, erm, starzelles? That's what they were, right?" He sniggered in delight, "Ah, no matter. Everything good?"

Buckman looked at his omni-tool's screen, "...You're all clear, enjoy your stay in Eden Prime."

"I will, thanks, man!" He called back, looking back at his omni-tool, "Jackass bureaucrats." A mumble said through hushed tones, him quickly trying to distance from any more red tape.

Hard to imagine colonial life; so stable and predictable, and unfathomably boring. Citizens in professional attire making their way to their 9-to-5, some crowding in and out of stores hoping for the latest swill of pop culture to throw their credits at, some merely just lounging around with a lazed listlessness that came from provincial life.

"Sooner this gets done, sooner I can get out of here." A thought, one that predates another image in his head, one of stalking in the wilderness of this place. The lushness of this world called to him, begged him to come hunt in its verdance, taunting him like an asari dancer in the distance; just enough color on the horizon to entice, alluded mystery in every rolling hill and curve. He could see it, just there beyond the city...but work first, wouldn't do him any good to indulge before he got his credits. Then, he could go and make love to sweet Mother Nature in her alien beauty.

Passing through the crowds, his eyes caught on to an ominous sight around every corner of the colony. Squads of Alliance marines traveled in tight-knit numbers, a heavy military presence meant that each step outside the law meant a step closer to being riddled by assault rifle fire. A few soldiers or cops he could slip away from, disappear into the wilderness or the urbanscape; but this many marines meant a base would be nearby. That would prove problematic to slip through should he get into their sights.

RIght now, best to play the upstanding citizen card; he would have nothing to hide and no games to play. He walked straight in the crowds with hair free, letting his face shine its warmest smile; skulking around in his armor would rouse suspicion, better to hide in plain sight and seem just another spacer come to ground for some R&R. He received a few curious stares his way; some distrusting or wary of him, but nothing that would hamper his search for the warehouse district.

No guards greeted him, no fences, nothing but the sound of machinery and men at work. He walked in amongst heavy transports with crates stacked and secured in neat rows, hovering to and fro between warehouse and skyway. He was a sight amongst the typical jumpsuits, some stopping to stare at the odd mercenary and his eve odder mechanical sidekick.

"B12…B11...B20...aaand B9, here we go." K remarked in an aside, heading for the storage house marked with a bright red symbol referring to its callsign. Outside of it was a singular man, maybe early thirties, bearing a farmer's tan with a single stripe of brown facial hair down his broad chin. A beanie covered his head, not a hair peeking out from it and shading over his dull brown eyes that popped up to observe the newcomer.

His omni-tool opped up, a screen projecting this man's likeness above it for the mercenary to glance at; yes sir, this was his man alright. The screen vanished as K drew his arms wide and approached, the biggest shit-eating grin laden on his face.

"Powell! Buddy! Long time no see!" He said, unabashed as he engulfed him in a big hug. This drew the attention of some of the other workers at nearby warehouses, but none paid little more heed than a passing curiosity; just two friends reuniting, nothing new.

This Powell was gobstruck, unknowing what to do when a heavily-armed man out of the blue yells your name and suddenly hugs you. Even more so when he wraps an armored arm around his shoulders, grinning as a salesman finding the biggest mooch to sucker. "Pow, can I call you Pow?"

"Uh, wh-"

"Pow, my friend, come with me, let's find somewhere private to talk." He spoke without a care, before leaning in and whispering. "And by the way, Jagen sends his regards."

That made the dockworker freeze, big brown eyes lighting up with their whole focus on his "friend". "J-Jagen? I-uh, y-yeah...just uh...please don't kill me." He begged, almost whimpering; he was on the verge of wetting his britches then and there.

K slapped his shoulder, "No, no, I'm just here to talk, Pow ol' buddy, have a...Pow-wow if you will, heh!" A harder slap followed, the mercenary just all smiles and laughs as his latest acquaintance did not know whether to dutifully laugh at the poor joke or fall to his knees and beg forgiveness. He just nodded, awkwardly half-chuckling and half-choking as he led the way into the warehouse.

Once out of sight, Powell decided then was the time to commit to a reaction, "Jagen will get his goods, I swear! It's just been a rough couple of days, what with the-" All words stammered out into an uncontrollable simpering when the massive pistol was nonchalantly inspected before him, a premature show of force.

"Pow. You made a deal, so I hear." K spoke, the friendly attitude now soured with a sinister seriousness, the grin all the same with eyes unchanging from their mirthy shine. "Mr. Jagen doesn't like when people renege on their deals...and what was it? Two crates a week? That sounds very reasonable, doesn't it?" The revolver's heat chamber was snapped out, perused for a moment before clicking back into place with a snap of his wrist. "And yet, you take his money, his support of your little backwater business...and have the…" He mused a little, spinning his revolver around a finger as he pondered, "Oh what's the word...Pow, my man, help me out here, what's the word.." His hand drew the pistol, its barrel right in front of the smuggler's face, "Gall! That's the word! Had it right on...the tip of my tongue!" The muzzle barely rested on Powell's terrified mouth, lips shying best they could from the barrel. He looked ready to cry, to beg this man to have mercy; only for it to be withdrawn and begin to spin again. "The gall to renege! Yes, Pow, oh, Pow Pow Pow...you are in ...just such a predicament! Mr. Jagen is losing patience with your...lackluster work ethic, he told me himself you know, very displeased." He tuts, a finger waving at the poor man. "So he hires me to make sure those backorders get on the next transport out of here. And to make sure that it doesn't happen again...do we have an understanding?"

Before a rebuttal could made, some excuse; all friendliness vanishes, and the revolver leans in with its mercenary wielder, pressing its muzzle right into his cheek. There is nothing here, not even the fake cheer remains, just the cold, computerized eyes of a born killer. "Do. We. Understand?"

Eyes wide, panic setting in. K stared hard down, unflinching in his gaze as the man beneath him began to have life itself flash before his eyes. A pushover, a small time criminal who thinks he was too slick to be caught, too untouchable perhaps. Never even stopped to consider the consequences of dealing with the underworld, just saw the money and nothing else. Short-sighted little man with no aspirations other than living another day and making another paycheck…

K scowled, wondering just how different he was from this toad.

"O-okay! Please...puhlease d-don killl meeee…" And here came the tears, the begging. "Pleeease…" He couldn't even stand to look upon the face of his would-be killer, squeezing his eyes shut. His eyes snapped open as he fell to the ground, the grip released and gun now back on his hip.

"Good man, Pow!" The bright and sunny disposition had returned, slipped on easily as one would a glove. "That's just what I wanted to hear, so now, you're going to work double time to make up for this little blunder, yeah?"

Powell managed to nod, striving to find his legs again, the sight akin to a baby deer wobbling for the first time. "Y-yeah, of course, w-whatever Jagen wants…"

"There's a good man. Second chances are rare, so make the most of it now." K cocked his head with a grin, patting the heavy pistol at his side for emphasis. The reaction was one of terror flitting across his target's face, a heavily overenthusiastic nod his answer. "Marvelous. Now, Pow, I'm going to take some time off and see the sights...You, my friend, are going to be hard at work getting this done...and I will be checking in on you…" He approached, that grin going sickly sweet. "You'll never know when, or where I'll pop in to see if you're slacking again...so work hard, okay?" He gently slapped his cheek, still smiling ear to ear. "Cause as much as I like you, Pow, my man, I don't want to have to this talk again. And spoiler, it won't end well."

With that, he turned on a heel and proceeded out for the entrance, leaving Powell to stew in his own juices...until he decides to change his underwear.

"**Captain**." Dak sounded over his commline, "**Alliance forces en route to your location. Two heavily armed marines. One male, one female.**"

"Thanks, Dak." K answered, sighing to himself. More hassles, hopefully they were as dumb as colonial marines typically go.

Exiting the warehouse, two figures approached him, and Dak who sat just outside; just as the VI had stipulated, both were in heavy armor of Alliance design and both were armed to the teeth. The male was the taller of the two, but seemed to walk in deference to the female, letting her take point, armor of typical grey and blue and bearing your standard military-grade Lancer Mk. I rifle. The woman, however, did not quite fit the mold of your run-of-the-mill jarhead; her armor was a fusion of whites with a pink accent running along its entirety. Muscular but curvaceous build, her short stature not impacting her fierce demeanor at all. Her eyes deadset forward, pillowy lips set into a neutral frown, and in her arms she packed a Lancer much like her counterpart, but it was certainly a Mark III, signalling her as a petty officer of some kind.

The male had a bored look in his eyes, and seemed slovely compared to his partner. He carried himself slower and lower, seeming like this was your everyday occurrence, another job to do. Still, he maintained a small degree of professionalism that was a grade above the private security at the docks; K figured that dull expression would spark to life in an instant when the fires broke out. However, the woman was sharp as an eagle on the hunt; she was the dangerous one. Her eyes traced here and there, scanning her surroundings with a vicious aptitude that would see any threat brought down with a hail of bullets before one could say, "Draw".

That gaze settled on him then, and the two sized each other up. He measured her briefly, careful not to reveal his hand too soon in this game, playing a card of nonchalance as he leaned on a nearby crate with a casual smirk. Her frown deepened, distrustful. He simply responded with a casual wave.

"G'day." He greeted casually, just tipping his head at them both in turn.

"Hey," The girl spoke first, commanding the conversation. "Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams of the 212 and this is Private Harrison Bates, we received reports of a suspicious man in the area." Her eyes focused, razor-sharp on the heavily-armed man before her, obvious in her accusation. "Can you state your business here, sir?"

Playing the friend here would only set her off. No, he needed to go on the offensive. He first looked insulted, curling his mouth into a grimace with eyes tightening. "Suspicious? Oh...oh this is just great." His hands threw up in a mock display of aggravation, "Let me guess, a brown man walks around and suddenly everyone yells suspicious!"

Both marines were caught off guard, the man stepping forward. "Woah woah, we didn't mean it like that, sir. We were implying-"

"Oh I know what you're implying." K snapped back, indignation clear as he folded his arms. "You know, this kind of treatment...it's deplorable, it's...mind-boggling!"

"Sir." Chief Williams spoke up, breaking through the din. "Please, take a breath...I apologize if we offended, but we are just investigating a report of a heavily-armed man in the midst of a work district. Surely you can see why that's suspicious." Clear and calm as a cucumber, solid under pressure. Didn't fold so easily...respectable...but also purely naive, she at least bought the race card play.

"Kam" massaged his temples, taking a breath. "I...I'm sorry, it's...been a day. I...I can see why that's the case." He softened his visage, still looking on edge as the act demanded. "...My name is Kam Jefferson, I work as a courier that freelances out of Noveria ...hence, you know…" He gestures to his armor and equipment. "And...listen, a few days ago, one of my friends passed. I came here to tell another close friend in person, his...his name is Powell, he's just in here...he's…" K rubbed his head, downcasting his eyes in an attempt to garner sympathy. "...He's….abosrbing the news now."

Both marines looked at one another, awkwardness breaking their military attitude. The surprise came when a hand met Kam's shoulder, the firm grip of Chief Williams now there.

Though a head or two shorter, she still commanded a strength of presence that drew his eyes to hers. "I'm sorry for your loss, and I'm sorry we bothered you." Direct, and unabashedly forward; respectable, even if it was born from a lie. She withdrew from him, she nodded her head at Bates, cocking it back towards the colony at large.

"Thank you, I...I'm sorry for blowing up. Have a good day." He managed a cracked smile, even throwing in a salute to them, which they returned with soft smiles. They were awkward, of course, having been put off by the display. Just as he wanted, didn't even ask about the mechanical canine at his side.

It was then the door behind him opened, and the man of the hour emerged; mostly cleaned up but it was obvious he had been stressed out by his red eyes. Williams looked back, catching the two meeting up once more. A half-hug was given to Powell, courtesy of his new mercenary supervisor for the sake of the act.

"Act natural, don't ask questions. Your friend just died and you're in mourning." Kam said in an aside as he leaned in, smiling at the marine as she went. Powell, overcome, just babbled and froze, unknowing of what to do. Another squeeze was given, letting the marines disappear out of sight before releasing his faux best friend. "Good man, now get to work!" With a fanciful tone, he laughed, making his way off and away...maybe to get some lunch.

It was going to be an easy gig from here on out if this guy was the only obstacle in his way.


	3. Entry 3: Mass Effect

**Entry 3**

**Mark 0298 of CE 2183**

**Mass Effect**

"A Prothean artifact?" Kam asked, taking a sip from his coffee.

"Yeah, guys say it was just uncovered." Powell replied, hefting another lockbox into a crate. He wiped his brow with a cloth on his person, replacing his bald head with the beanie once more. "Seems like it's gonna be a big thing, since the guns are all out there at the digsite...makes this whole thing...a lot easier." He huffed out, beginning to load the crate onto a hovering dolly.

Kam mildly watched from atop several other crates, mixing his coffee with a short straw. His presence the last few days seemingly has been accepted by the other workers around. The onsite manager had even allowed his presence; a few credits slipped his way was enough to buy his ignorance when the sob story didn't budge him.

A sip was taken, "Hmm." The few days he had been here had seen the streets bare of any soldiers, and now it made sense. If what they had found was a Prothean relic, no matter how insignificant it was, they would be as a dragon would with its hoard of gold; only an act of God would pry it from their fingertips. Or an act of the Council, considering how much humanity had been playing up their newfound galactic importance.

Another sip had been taken, glancing upward at the morning sun barely cresting over the horizon. It fought through a sea of grey that clouded the early sky, trying its hardest to wake up as the rest of the colony did. He couldn't help the yawn that bubbled up, ready to head out and explore the wilds once more. Firstly, he needed to make his stop to Powell, and remind him of their deal. Thankfully, he was making good progress; with the Prothean whatchamacallit now being the center of attention, few would hazard to notice a misplaced rifle here or a couple grenades there.

His eyes drifted away to the stretch of green just nearby, thinking he might just leave Powell to his duties and go stalk some more wildlife. Maybe go deeper into the untamed and see about finding bigger game than-

Something caught his attention, shifting his focus away from the hunt towards the colony itself. Noises, familiar ones that made his entire body steel and tense.

Screams. Followed by the sound of gunfire.

The coffee lay forgotten, tossed aside as he clamored atop the crates, crouching as his rifle was folded out; scope peered through to catch visual of anything nearby. He peered into the city, noticing stray lights zip through the air with the wildlands just beyond doing the same; no visual on the attacking force yet.

A finger reached up to his ear, "Dak, initiate Sentry Protocol." The command made the dog alight to all fours, beginning to stalk towards nearby cover.

"Hey what's goin' on?" Powell asked, unnerved by the sudden activity. He backtracked a little ways, looking for a potential threat like a spooked animal. K looked ready to speak, only to see several lights advancing on their position; each one held up by a body of synthetic metals and bearing alien armaments.

Too many to fight on by his lonesome, especially if they had already engaged the marines and gotten past them. Reinforcements were unlikely, he had one objective right now…

"That is." He pointed towards the oncoming synthetics just now coming into sight for normal eyes, drawing Powell's attention and allowing his overseer to activate his personal cloak. Vanishing just as the encroaching light bulbs opened fire.

Poor Powell didn't stand a chance. No shields, no armor; just weak flesh to take several bolts and crumple over as K hid. At least his death was a quick one, he reminded himself, looking down at the smuggler's still form. He remained where he was, perched atop the crates in plain sight as the squad approached. A dozen, he counted, each with curved necks and heads ending in a bright bulbous light that flickered from their headplates' continuous flapping, each made strange computerized chirping in some manner of communication.

A hand slowly lifted to his ear, "Dak." He whispered. "Play Dead Protocol. Shut down any non-essential systems."

"**Affirmative, Captain**."

The canine was out of sight for him, but he was also hidden from...whatever these things were. So long as he remained still, and Dak was shut down and curled up, these things should just press on and not notice him. If he ran for cover, he could probably make it before his cloak had to recharge; but if he remained perched where he was, it would remain indefinitely.

All bets on the gargoyle tactic; stay completely still and remain like a statue, letting his cloak mask his presence.

Thankfully these synthetics did not pick him up, or didn't bother to begin scanning properly, moving on as a unit and sweeping through the warehouse district. He could hear a pair of screams just beyond, some poor soul had been caught; the following gunfire put a silence to it.

His teeth ground together, eyes squinting shut to press out the mental image. He did not need that right now, he needed to remain calm...remain hidden.

What forced his eyes to open was the earth-shattering noise to come. He could only describe it as a roar, a mechanized one that shook the dawn above them. The deepest bass of a thousand crashing brass instruments multiplied by a millionth factor; he fought to cover his ears as his eyes shot up to discover its source.

Emerging from the skies, came what could only be described as a tendril of steel and mechanized metal; long enough to wrap around a dreadnought at least twice over. Another broke through the sky, and another. Five emerged through the skyline in total, connected to the largest damn starship he had ever seen. It emerged like the hand of God, raining fire and death in the form of unknown alien frigates surged over the colony, decimating whatever resistance could be found.

So transfixed on this, K didn't even see the androids cart Powell's body off until they were already gone with it. Several of the machines had already pressed onward, towards the spaceport, while others began setting up strange devices all around the warehouses. He could see two female bodies being dragged towards one, probably the screamers from earlier, and Powell's just behind them and bound for another.

Carefully, his sniper scope was brought up. The devices looked like small rounded platform, standing on three legs about waist-high. One synthetic hoisted up Powell's body, almost cradling him as it laid him bare; a sacrificial altar if he ever saw one. The scope zoomed in closer, allowing him a front row seat to watch as Powell be lain like an ornament atop this new installation.

That's when the platform jutted up like a macabre mechanical stalagmite and impaled Powell right through his chest. It hoisted him up, a disturbing decoration with his arms hanging in the morning wind.

A taste of vomit curled in K's throat, forcing himself to regain his composure as more corpse-ridden banners of the synthetic's victory joined Powell along the wildland's route and beyond.

This was…a word didn't even come to mind. Disgusting and abominable weren't even close to describing this barbarism. Did these synthetics worship Vlad the Impaler? What did they hope to accomplish through this display? Were there any marines or civilians left to frighten with this?

K took another breath, trying to fight past the growing lurch in his stomach.

That's when the worst of it came, just a few short minutes after being impaled, the spikes retracted into the platforms. Those bodies, were now twisted into frankenstein abominations of flesh and cybernetics; anything human was removed, save for the general shape, everything else was replaced with a stream of blue tech that looked akin to a bug's carapace. The mutated husk of what was once Powell let out a vicious cry as it unhooked itself from the platform, its jaw unhinging to allow it to shriek beyond human capability, before running off with what were once two other people following it.

K could only gape at them, horrified as he stood stark still from his place, watching them run off with the gait of adrenaline-fueled techno zombies.

Maybe he should have just set Powell on fire instead of just hide, do one mercy to prevent such a horrid fate befalling him. A scowl lined his face, knowing that that would have just doomed him to the same fate without a bullet saved for his own mouth.

"Better him than me."

Another deep breath taken, a moment to reflect from his position of waiting and watching. The synthetics didn't seem interested in looting or destroying the colony, only its inhabitants it seemed. He watched them pass over thousands of credits' worth of weapons and armor and goods, not even deigning to inspect them at least. The only thing they did bother with was Powell's hover transport, them stealing away the massive length of transportation northward.

North towards where the rumored digsite was. The Prothean artifact must be their target, must be if not for spoils or for general terror.

Other than that, they just patrolled the area, where any movement or sound would trigger a rifled response. He watched them for a good long while, observing the patterns they made; no deviant from their paths or spots save to root out a potential threat here or wander out of sight on some unknown order. Not too sure of his safety, his face now became sealed against his helmet, allowing his HUD to begin scanning through the various synthetics that roamed around.

A sudden mass of them appeared, crossing through the district with a payload easily worth its weight in credits. A veritable legion of synthetics marching alongside their prize, a glowing miniature tower of some kind; it reminded him of that old Earth tech, an antennae, maybe. They swarmed it, ants trucking a great prize to their nest. Some of them were massive, easily towering over krogan in full armor with weapons that looked more at place on a tank than carried in something's arms.

At the back end of the parade, came the most surprising sight since the spikes. A figure that was half as much machine as the synthetics were. Tubes crawled into his chest armor, metallic grey and dark steel colored his protective layer, hiding a carapace of pale silver. Eyes of such bright neon blue they lit up his hollowed eyeholes, with more light stemming from implants running along his flanges.

A lone turian man who walked without fear amidst a tide of killer synths. Curiosity got the better of him then, as his scope drifted in closer, wanting to see for himself just what this lone mortal was doing. He wasn't a prisoner by any means, maybe even a leader given how whenever he spoke, the machines rushed off to do his bidding. Questions abound as to who, or what this man was, even more so when a krogan stepped beside him. Towering above the turian, this kaiju of a krogan seemed just as subservient as the synthetics were; graciously lowered his plated head in deference to the turian. It was a sight to see considering the two peoples usually hated one another, worse than cats and dogs they were. The krogan's headplate was not of his own making, bearing a vicious neon streak down its front, matching the turian for cybernetics; his throat ran rivers of mechanization down into his blackened heavy regalia.

A cold bead of sweat trickled down his neck as the two sole mortals made their way towards him. His hackles raised, ready to bolt should they open fire; maybe they wanted to take him prisoner, interrogate him or turn him into one of those things. He wasn't going out like that, he would never deign to become such a creature. He scoped in closer to the turian, seeing those cold blue eyes affixed on his location. Going out fighting, if he has to, and he's going to drop this cyberized freak first. Deep breath taken, finger pressing to the trigger.

"Here." The turian spoke aloud, pointing not at where their invisible stalker awaited...but to the large crates just to his left. "Those markings are for Alliance explosives...take them."

Explosives? He had been sitting near explosives?! He shifted just ever so slightly as the krogan called over several synthetics to hoist up the crates.

"Humans...skilled only in the ways of destruction and ego." The turian spoke again, running a hand over one of the massive bomb crates. "Take these to the spaceport, and set them after the Beacon is activated."

The krogan shuffled over after letting one massive machine take his crate. "Saren. The geth have reported several holdouts on the outskirts, what of them?"

Saren? The name sounded familiar, but it couldn't be placed now. The geth surprised him more; that explains the massive numbers and the unfamiliar technology. Alien AIs from beyond the Veil, but odd they ventured this far into Alliance space without detection.

"The heavy ordinances will dispose of them, they will surely want to recover their precious Beacon...and the trail we leave will lead them right into the blast's epicenter." No expression, no sadness or anger, not even humor at his plan...his voice lacked any form of emotion. It sent a chill down K's spine. "Now go, deliver it to the point I specified, Vanx."

A nod, the krogan obeying dutifully, turning only when the husks upon the hill began shrieking and dashing towards something. One head exploded, a second and third fell prey to a well-placed grenade. Someone was fighting still.

Saren ushered his krogan away with a wave, letting this Vanx go into hiding just behind the crates. Too close for K's comfort...close enough for that heavy shotgun to reduce him to a pulpy mess if it comes to be bared against him. A custom pistol was drawn from Saren's side, and pointed forward. Its ring signaled the final husk's death, and it crumpled to the ground in a lifeless heap.

K peered curiously at this sudden turn, wasn't he in command of these things? He peered over near the other warehouses lining the hillside, and something emerged from the shadows. Thin air rippled as a personal cloak deactivated, another turian making his entrance known. This one bore a ruddy red coloring, his face streaked with white markings. In his hands was a quality sniper rifle, something K had never seen before.

"Saren?" The newcomer seemed surprised, knowing him obviously.

"Nihlus." Saren responded, drawing his pistol back. It started to make sense now, he wanted to make sure this Nihlus wasn't suspicious of him being here.

"This isn't your mission, Saren...what are you doing here?"

Poor bastard was walking right into a trap, the krogan was patiently lurking, fingering his shotgun and itching to use it.

"The Council thought you could use some help on this one." A hand clasped Nihlus' shoulder, a bond between the two certain. Saren stalked back behind his so-called friend, a predator waiting to strike. And the Council? Must be special forces, but the only armed force under the Council's direct control were-

Oh no. If these two were Spectres...that made this a whole new mess.

"I wasn't expecting to find the geth here." Nihlus stared off towards the spaceport, trying to picture where his quarry had gone. "The situation's bad."

Pistol in hand once more, Saren had a clear chance with Nihlus looking off into the distance. The scene was slow, like a skycar crash, the shot would be clean and ruthless. Doesn't even have to aim, dead to rights. Letting Powell die was one thing, a low man on the totem pole, but this Nihlus character...if he was a Spectre, and he was here to kill these things…

He was the best chance to get the hell out of this place.

"Don;t worry, I've got it all under-"

"NIHLUS BEHIND YOU!" K shouted, pistol drawn and began laying into the krogan just beneath him. Three quick shots rang out in succession, two impacting his shields with the third piercing his armor. Not enough to kill, but enough to certainly startle him and force his regeneration to act fast. He could already see the krogan's reptilian gaze fall upon his rapidly-appearing form as it shimmered into existence.

Nihlus stiffened and wheeled, Saren caught off guard for just a second too long, allowing Nihlus to grab his pistol and swing upward. The killshot flew off into the distance, Saren growling his annoyance as the two turians began to grapple with one another.

"Saren! What are you doing?!" Nihlus spat, enraged.

"What needs to be done!" Saren hissed back, covered now in that vibrant blue energy privy to biotics. Nihlus was repulsed backwards several dozen yards, ragdolled through the air into the brush.

K didn't have the luxury of checking on him, considering the rampaging six hundred pound mass of armor and fury that trudged behind him, tossing crates aside like one would tread water through. It was barely enough for the would-be sniper to vault over walls and crates alike, seeing the shotgun disintegrate everything in its proximity that was unfortunate enough to be caught in its crosshairs. His shields were pinged several times by a loose bullet, it was enough to near drop them; a full blast would be the death of him.

"Dak! GUARD DOG PROTOCOL!" He shouted into his communicator, his omni-tool flaring to life and firing off something from its gauntlet. A heavy wire shot out towards the roof of a warehouse, carrying him along with it once it secured itself to its roof. His body contorted, almost unnaturally as his rifle was deployed mid-air. The grace of a dancer letting him land with little force, kneeling into position with his sniper rifle scoped and ready. The target was big enough to not worry about aiming, just needed to force him back. Two shots rang out, catching the krogan once in the arm, and another in the neck; forcing him to take cover behind several thick crates. His shields would be back up, and K needed to not be in view when that happened, he began to activate his cloak, when his shields were forced down by a blast of electricity. Pain flooded his system in shock, as he whirled to face two incoming geth down from the street behind him, rifles primed upward to try and gun him down. An Overload program, figures these synths were good at ripping through artificial barriers.

Wheeling his rifle around, one well-placed shot tore through the geth's shielding and exploding his flashlight head into shrapnel. Its system sparked and frazzled before collapsing to the ground, splashing the concrete with a milky white substance. A bullet snagged his shoulder, his shields still down. He rolled back onto the roof's cover, medigel slapped into the fresh wound with teeth gritted from the burning sensation of his flesh tore into from a mass-accelerated round.

"**Bark!**" The monotone voice of Dak phased into existence as it laid into the geth, its tasers latched on and unloaded a few million joules of electricity into it. Enough to not only render it into the synthetic equivalent of a grand mal seizure, but also keep it still enough for a bullet to sunder its head into a hundred pieces.

Letting Dak retreat back under his perch, a wary glance is given over to where the krogan was, hoping for a pick shot.

Unfortunately, what he saw wasn't a krogan lining up his next shot, but a very angry krogan clenching his now-glowing fist and lobbing a blue bullet of energy his way.

"Sh-!" Was all he managed to get out before he was hovering in the air, a perfect target as he gently drifted like a leaf on the wind. Vanx cackled proudly, hefting his shotgun and preparing to piecemeal this new interloper. He then unexpectedly turned to see two small discs whizzing for him, and again he leaped for cover as the thrown grenades detonated, sending him reeling ass over end with his quarry plummeting to the ground. K could swear he could hear his spine snap as it collided with a munitions crates, his legs spilling upward as he tumbled backward to catch himself.

With just a moment to catch his breath, he forced his aching body upward to survey the situation; geth now were flooding in from the spaceport, providing cover fire to allow Vanx and Saren to fall back. Fall back with Nihlus now at their mercy. Popping one geth's head, the scope managed to catch the two turians in conversation; Saren unamused in dealing with a furious Nihlus.

The rifle was levied at Saren, hoping to repay the favor the turian did for him, only for more geth fire to force him back into cover. A good shot was impossible at this angle. Time to move then, his cloak had recharged and with it, he vanished from view to break from his makeshift bunker. Sprinting to a high rise wall nearby, he had the perfect angle now to-

A crack sounded above the din of combat. Nihlus' body went limp in the biotic field, uncaringly dropped to sprawl on the ground. A pool of blue now joined the numerous streaks of red that decorated the area. The scope rested on where he fell, then popped back up to his killer; if he was going to die here now without a Spectre, might as well drop this bastard. Two clean shots, aimed right for his pale dome.

Two rounds, one after another, both on target. Despite the oncoming fire from the geth who now knew where he was, he wanted to watch that turian's head explode. Instead of a spray of blue blood and cyberized gunk, what he got instead was a pair of blue ripples when they impacted harmlessly on his barrier. It was as though a fly had annoyed him, the way Saren's head turned to face him as his geth swarmed forward. It was an annoyed look, not one of anger or hatred, but a look one gives an insect that had buzzed too much for his liking.

Forced back behind cover, the sniper gritted his teeth, awaiting the oncoming horde to overtake him. No programs to slip out this time, no grenades to disperse the crowd or force them back, only two guns and a dog that could electrocute them at close range...not enough to take on ten plus synthetics armed to the teeth...or processors, or whatever. He swung back around, pistol in hand, making his last stand here.

One geth toppled back as a bullet tore through its arm, spraying ivory everywhere with another moving forward to take its place. Another shot rang out, this one forcing another synthetic back to tend to a new orifice in his chest. Two pings on his shields signaled that his own defenses were dropping quickly with the concentrated fire from a dozen different sources. Ducking back behind the crates, the heat emanating from the barrel of his revolver was not a good sign; it needed time to cool, time he didn't have as the clicking grew closer, the shots thudding against his cover more fierce in their volleys. Sweat poured down his neck and face, daring to shoot up once more and fire off a pulse of overwhelming electric force; short-circuiting another geth platform.

The wall was losing its edge, and it forced him to dive for a different protective source; this time opting on a heavy transport truck. Sprinting as fast as he could, the familiar sound of his shield overloading signaling him needing to faster. As he looked towards the oncoming synths, several had broken off from the troop, now focused on the same hillside Nihlus had come from; only for two to begin glowing blue and rocket off. Saren and his pet krogan were nowhere to be seen. Luck was playing it close today, the goddamn tease she was. Someone else was here, maybe another Spectre, maybe some survivor marines pushing back; whoever it was, it was a gift from the fates.

Whirling around its back end, he caught two more geth in a crossfire, both looking to flank around and take him. One went over easily once its snake-like head was shredded, the other took an arm shot and turned for cover only to be met with Dak. Dashing forward and ignoring the overloading his partner was doling out, his revolver began to warm in annoyance as another shot rang out to catch a geth in the shoulder. Enough to stagger, not enough to kill. His omni-tool flared to life, and from it rolled out a synthetic blade of the same make as the tool itself, soon to be jammed into the clacking flashlight that served as the geth's head. He ripped it forward, severing it clean off.

Pain suddenly ripped through his ribcage, a burning sensation overwhelming enough to force him down on all fours. The blade was subbed out, the tool now beginning to apply medigel to the injured area; not enough to dull the pain, but enough for him to keep on fighting.

He looked up just in time to see two geth sluggishly bring their weapons down at him, two heavy assault rifles primed and ready to finish him. Staring down their muzzles, he grimaced, trying to force his gun arm up and defend himself, knowing that it would be too slow to save him.

Gritting his teeth as he swung around, he blinked as he saw both geth now hovering in the air; trying to fire off haphazard shots towards whatever biotic was attacking them. One suddenly exploded, bits and pieces of it shredded off from a shotgun's buckshot, the other slowly being crushed into a metallic mass before being spiked into the ground. Now there he was, panting with his head loopy from the medigel, covered in whatever egg-colored goo served as their blood, and now, indebted to whoever came in to save him.

Unable to resist grunting in pain from the effort of standing, K finally managed to find his feet and see who exactly it was that had slaughtered damn near every geth in the vicinity. He counted at least two dozen of them strewn through the warehouse district, some were perhaps Nihlus and himself, but a majority had to be this new trio that approached him. Their leader was a woman, her entire head sealed in a black helmet with a dark visor, her armor onyx black to match with a white stripe down flanked by two thinner lines of red down her pauldrons. A powerful Hahne-Kedar model of shotgun in her hands, matching the make of what he could make out to be an assault rifle at her back and a heavy pistol at her hip. Right above her chest plating was emblazoned a large "N7" tag; Alliance spec ops, cream of the crop marines who didn't take shit but could dish it out five times over. Flanking her, man in his late twenties, maybe early thirties, light stubble on his chin with an unmasked helmet. His armor was light, dark grey with streaks of deeper blue that was offset by the glowing cyan of his biotics that were beginning to dim down. The last, was a recognizable one as Ms. Williams shouldered her assault rifle as she jogged up.

"Hey! Kam, is that you?" Her eyes flitted over him, measuring to see what condition he was in.

A wave off, "I'm...I'm fine, just a little...dazed. Medigel's kicking in, so I'm good." A soft chortle escaped, "But I'm so glad you care that much about me." He couldn't help the singsong tone as he spoke, easily slipping once more into that fake cheer.

She managed a sharp breath through her nose, turning to face the newcomers. The biotic in blue running off somewhere else, as the N7 woman approached. "Williams, you know him?"

"Somewhat. He's a civilian, spoke to him once."

"What's your name?" The question came for him now, the dark visor bearing down on him despite her being a few inches his shorter.

A half-hearted salute came, "Kam Jefferson, courtier-for-hire."

She was reading him, based on the short silence that followed. "You're pretty decked out for a courier."

"Galaxy's a dangerous place." He responded casually.

"Commander!" The biotic shouted, having found the dead turian. "It's Nihlus." He bent down over the corpse, scanning him with his omni-tool.

"Friend of yours?" Kam asked, turning towards the so-called Commander, who not so subtlety cursed under her breath. "Nihlus, as I came to know him but briefly, we unofficially teamed up against the geth. He was about to be blindsided by the other turian here, Saren."

"Other turian?" The Commander repeated, looking at Ashley next.

"News to me, I didn't see the one turian."

A low acknowledging hum escaped the N7's helmet before, "So how did you survive out here by your lonesome?"

"Yeah, I was kinda hiding when the geth came-"

"You were **hiding**?" Williams almost snarled the question.

His hands were held up in mock surrender, "Hey now, easy there...I have a personal cloak, part of the job. I was here with Powell when the geth ambushed us, and when you're one man with a sniper rifle and a heavy pistol...not much you can do against a platoon of crazy synths who shove people onto spikes."

"Ease up, Ashley." The Commander butted in, "And then what happened?"

"My cloak can last a few hours provided I don't move, so I hid out atop the crates. The geth secured the area, watched them patrol around with- Oh shit." He whirled around, trying to gain sight of Dak. "Dak? Dak, status?"

"**Bark.**" The sound came from his left, the mechanized canine appearing from behind several crates. In his earpiece, came a proper reply. "**Captain, minimal damage to exterior, this unit is still combat-ready.**"

"What the hell? A dogmech?" The Commander had her shotgun out, ready to blow another synth to pieces.

"He's with me, he's my personalized FENRIS mech, upgraded, if you will." Though they couldn't see it, he flashed a wide smile. "Say hello, Dak."

"**Bark.**"

"That's...creepy." Ashley interjected.

"Agreed, but we're getting off track." Again did the Commander intervene, "We're on a mission, one that Nihlus was supposed to help us on. Tell me what happened with him, and this Saren, as well as if you have seen the Prothean artifact that they dug up."

"Sure, I'll-" He paused, remembering what came after the Beacon when that psycho turian arrived. "Wait, shelf that, Saren and the geth nabbed your artifact, as well as some high-caliber bombs. Said to set up at the spaceport, and then boom, clean slate. No evidence."

The marine went silent, save for another curse, then looked over her rescue as the third of their party joined back with them. "Double time for the spaceport, you any good with those?" Her hand lifted, a minimalist gesture to his weapons.

In response, he cracked his neck, throwing the Naginata over his shoulder. "I'm good, better with cover and a few extra at my back. Get me out of this place without going in a bodybag, and I'll tell you everything that happened."

"Deal." Her hand extended. "I'm Commander Shepard, and-" When he reached for it, she seized in hand and squeezed it tight enough to make him wince. This woman was crazy strong. "I'm in charge here, you follow my orders and I'll get you out of here in one piece." It wasn't a request by the tone of it, and he knew that underneath that offer was a veiled threat of "Get it my way and I'll run your ass over," Judging by her geth body count so far, that held a lot of weight.

"Deal, Shepard, just call me K and we'll be golden."

"Good, move out."


	4. Entry 4: Alliance

**Entry 4**

**Mark 0294 of CE 2183**

**Alliance**

Only three sounds filled the ghostly paths of the tram station; one being the deathly wind that blew through, spreading the coppery tang of blood in the air about the mass grave that was Eden Prime. The other two came from its invaders, the whirring clacks of the geth's computerized communications and their synthetic feet tapping against the steel-wrought pathways of the station as they endlessly patrolled back and forth for any survivors of their purge. Their flashlight-like heads scanning with each step in a mechanical pattern of each direction.

"_In my heyday, young girls wrote to me~_"

A fourth sound joined the fray, a thunderous crack of gunfire that brought forth a fifth in the form of a geth's death sputtering as its tendril-like neck exploded. The other geth platforms reacted without pause, calculating the shot pattern and trajectory. When one synthetic spotted a figure above them, taking cover behind a pillar at the tram station's roof, all geth began spraying their to oust this rebel sniper.

The blare of automatic fire created a cacophony, a chorus of death that was only interrupted when two riflemen geth lost their sense of gravity and began hovering in the air; a wispy aura of blue surrounding their form. The din of another rifle joined in, tearing apart one geth with the other suffering the same fate with the blare of a shotgun. The geth turned their attention to three figures swarming the station, making use of the tram's overabundance of cargo for cover. One massive geth began to fade from sight, hoisting its powerful shotgun as it began to slink into the aether.

"_Everybody seemed to have time to devote to me~_"

A sniper round brought it back into reality, its new chest orifice still smoking as it toppled with a mechanical stutter over the railing onto the tracks below.

K slipped back into his cover, the massive archways of the tram track working to his advantage as he looked to the next in a long series of steelwork beams ahead of him. Each were at least a person's width, and spaced just far enough apart that he could roll to the next one with ease; which he did as soon as his HUD flashed his Naginata had finished its cooldown. He slipped to the next one, daring to peek out from behind his scope.

"_Everyone I saw all swore they knew me...Once upon a song~_" He sang just below his breath, lest his communicator pick it up.

It was still going to be a slog through the current inhabitants of the terminal; the geth had at least two squads worth of platforms remaining, and they had time on their side. They didn't need to win a firefight, they just needed to slow any offensive down hence why they bunkered down and opted on potshots and suppressing fire versus retaking ground and counterattacking.

And Shepard had known that.

K had to give the N7 credit, she was an effective tactician and commander; she sized up his abilities perfectly, and issued him strict orders to pick off the most dangerous threats at range. Snipers and specialist geth were tagged by Shepard; scoped and dropped by her eye in the sky. This allowed her and Ashley to blitz forward, between Shepard's biotics and barriers paired with Williams' heavy arms and heavier armor, they were a spear to drive hard. Their biotic and tech specialist, Kaiden, was then allowed free reign to harass the geth with all manner of disruptions.

Already this attack had cracked the geth's teeth, the rest scrambling to hang onto what little ground they had left.

K ran his scope over the remaining tracks the geth still held; several riflemen remained, along with what Shepard affectionately coined a "giant red asshole" keeping the squad pinned down with bouts of powerful suppressing fire. It was too far out of range to hack its shields, and they were too powerful to bring down before it ducked back into cover.

"_Main attraction, couldn't buy a seat...The celebrity, celebrities were dying to-_"

It's then when his HUD sprang to life, a reticle hovering over the eleven-foot geth that was peeking its head out to observe. His song was postponed when another voice entered his atmosphere.

"**K, I need that red rocket motherfucker brought down!**" The commander growled in his ear, before sending a condensed ball of biotic energy forward. Two geth riflemen and the small crate they hid behind were rocked off into the magnetic tracks of the tram. He could swear he heard the snapping of their synthetic bodies from all the way up here.

"Hold tight, Shep." He spoke back casually, zeroing in on the target at hand. "Watch as I make a geth disappear befo-" His reticle was soon filled up with a hairless blue head of metal and flesh, an unnaturally-long jaw screaming at him as its claw-like fingers scraped against the building to finish hauling itself up. He suppressed a yell of surprise, swinging the scope down to fully envelop its head and pulling the trigger. The husk's head nearly disintegrated, its body falling away and out of sight. He cleared his throat, taking his spot up once more.

"Sorry, had an unexpected guest. As I was saying…" Another shot was lined up, focusing on the geth juggernaut that now had popped out to begin firing at an advancing Ashley on the flank. "The magic words of alakazam and-" He chipperly sang his incantation into the mic, placing a sniper round the next second into its collar, almost snapping its neck off entirely. It flailed an arm, staggering its step and trying to defend itself wild sprays of pulse munitions until Ashley put a charged round square in its chest. Just in time for Shepard to charge forward with her shotgun past the wreck of her giant red nemesis and begin laying into the remaining geth like a storm of biotics and mass-accelerated buckshot; a reaper of synthetics taking her harvest with one geth crushed into a compact square, another having its chest and left arm shredded into swiss cheese, and a third slammed with a biotic-infused punch that sent it sailing into the tracks.

"Note to self." K commented to himself, hefting his rifle to see all had been cleared from the tram. "Do not piss that woman off…" Dusting himself off, he brought his omni-tool up, launching from it the grappling hook he had used to set himself up here in the first place. "...Or at least get a few dozen parsecs between us if I do…"

Swinging to the ground level, the three marines were shifting through the geth; presumably having already called the tram back to their location to chase after Saren and the Beacon.

Ashley tossed a pulse rifle aside after inspecting it, "Useless, just like the rest of the geth weapons." Her boot kicked at the juggernaut's dull head in a minor revenge.

Kaiden had his omni-tool out, working on unlocking a specialized crate with several warning stickers slapped on it. Shepard stood nearby, arms crossed with foot tapping; soon to cease as the newest addition to their squad rolled up. "K, good covering out there. Sniper cover is a luxury when you have a talented one looking out."

From behind his mask, he smiled in return. "Oh Shepard, I'd gladly cover you or Ms. Williams anytime." He looked back to the Gunnery Chief, giving her a two-fingered salute.

A laugh was pulled from the commander, before she nonchalantly looked over the edge where the deep recesses of the tram tracks were laid. "It's a long way down, hate to lose someone down there cause their tongue wrote checks their asses couldn't cash."

Ashley fought back a smirk, approaching from behind. "I volunteer to collect on that, ma'am. Just give me the order."

Now surrounded, K held up both hands in mock surrender. "Ladies, ladies, please! There's only so much of me to go around, I don't think I could handle the both of you ganging up on me." He leaned back on the railing, arms folded. "But I am most certainly willing to try."

That earned him an amused eye roll from Ashley, a barked laugh from Shepard, and he could swear he could hear Kaiden muttering something under his breath. K looked over at where he worked, the biotic man seemingly getting nowhere fast. The first impression he got from Mr. Alenko was a by-the-books marine, too smart to be a jarhead but too morally grounded and stubborn to get anywhere with it.

"Having trouble, Kaiden?" Shepard approached, pulling him from his work.

"Sorry, Commander. Whatever's in here is sealed tight, but don't worry, I think I can collect some of these rifles and gel them, maybe get enough t-"

Two gunshots rang from Shepard's pistol; blasting down on the lockbox's interface which now sputtered and sparked in defeat. It acquiesced to the Commander's touch as she gingerly lifted its lid. The way her helmet shifted towards her technician, K knew that she had the biggest smirk behind that sealed hunk of metal.

"...Or that works." Kaiden says, almost a little stunned. K couldn't help but laugh, loud and proud. The direct approach was sometimes the easiest.

"Commander." Williams interjected before any smartass rebuttal could be made, her finger jutting towards the tracks. "Tram's in sight."

Turning back to the others, Shepard pocketed a few power cells as she strong-armed a heavy missile launcher over to the other female marine. "All aboard."

With a whirring hum, the tram slowed to allow the four humans onboard. Nothing else was present, most likely shoved off or moved to allow room for the geth and their two alien leaders along with their prizes. Without any form of cover save for thin-plated paneled railings, they were sitting ducks both en route and when docked.

"Expect heavy resistance when we get there." Shepard said, looking ahead. "The geth will probably be expecting us, and will most likely be a lot more aggressive in their defense."

"How do you figure that?" Ashley asked.

Tapping her shotgun, Shepard answered, "Because their objective is within the enemy's striking range now. If I were them, I'd be scattering the bombs all over the spaceport, forcing us to divide our attention and then hitting us hard as we scramble location to location."

"Factor in someone has to disarm the bombs during firefights." Kaiden spoke up. "And we're down an extra gun for a good few minutes." His wrist flared to life, bringing up a hexagonal cylinder with data bubbles appearing about it. "From what I gathered, these are V-12 Ragnarok warheads...high explosive yields, means if we don't get every one of them, we're done."

Shepard turned to him now, "Can you disarm them?"

"Yeah, should be able to." His remark came casually, him hitting a few buttons on his tool to look over the bombs.

K lifted a hand next, "I can as well, spaceports got too many domed buildings for me to perch on safely. I'll be down with you all, might as well be the one playing diffuser."

"That gives us options at least." Shepard tilted back against a railing, arms folded. "We'll play it by ear given the situation. Real problem is getting to them, getting off this tram is going to be a challenge. Kaiden, you and me are going to form a biotic barrier to push off with; Ashley, you and K here are on cover duty. I'll be marking priority targets same as before, we push for the nearest safe zone and kill whatever's there."

K just grinned within the confines of his helmet, "Simple, I like it. Easy to remember." His rifle had been traded out for his revolver, the massive sidearm spinning on a finger. He turned a gaze towards his would-be partner, who tossed a grenade his way.

"Here, just in case."

Taking it with a flourish, the explosive was tucked away as though he were a magician; a little sleight of hand made it seemingly vanish onto his person, his finger wagging all the while. "Presto."

The tram began to slow as it approached the station, geth on both sides awaiting their batch of victims. The pathways were lined with hidey holes and crannies to duck into, perfect for cover and setting ambushes. A group of geth from the flank began advancing through the string of cargo, pulse rifles peppering the tram with suppressing fire.

Shepard and Kaiden both sprang up from the rails, hands stretched out with bodies fervently glowing. Around their small haven, a sanctuary of biotic blue shimmered into existence with rounds slamming into it the second it was erected. Taking her cue, Ashley shot up with the missile launcher prepped on her shoulder; a second to aim at the oncoming geth was all it took for the gunnery chief to press on the trigger. A flare shot from the weapon's mouth, a blue comet streaking across the tracks.

A sudden wish to have a camera came to K as he saw the geth squad detonate into a hundred bits of scattered synthetic materials and white goo. Not wanting to be outdone, K sprang into a sprint out the barrier and onto the remaining pathway. Revolver in hand, he disappeared from sight, the geth occupying this section focusing their ire on the barrier. One geth's head vanished, replaced with a few dozen scattered materials as his sidearm howled point-blank into it. Before the others could turn their flanker into a steaming corpse, the whizz of a grenade zipped through the air.

K ducked behind a sealed door's entryway to avoid the blast of heat that followed, as well as the ivory stains and shrapnel that surely would have decorated him. Daring to peek his head out, he saw the geth closest to the tram had been either exploded, or picked off by Ashley's roaring assault rifle.

"**Move up!**" Shepard's command given, the three vacated their transport and surged forward, with Kaiden lagging behind.

"**Commander, there's a bomb just near here.**" He called out, vanishing into what seemed like a hidden crevice just behind them.

No time to confirm Kaiden's theory, as more synths were arriving with a hail of bullets to herald their arrival. Shepard sent one flying before her shields wore out, forcing her back behind cover. K peeked out just to receive a glowing red missile bound just for him; a charge round slammed into his shields, knocking the wind out of him from the sheer concussive force that sent him to the ground of his hideaway.

"**K!**"

"F-fine, Shep….just...oof, big guy packs…" He couldn't finish his smartass line without an accompanying wheeze. The round impacted right onto his chest, probably had a few bruised ribs for the trouble. If his shields weren't quality, he would have a lot worse than that.

"**Big one coming right for us!**" Ashley yelled, the din of her rifle sounded just under her comms.

Forcing himself back up despite the searing pain that burned right down his side, K brought his omni-tool up along with his revolver. His arms wove around each other, as he heard the footsteps of something massive charging down the pathway. He only saw the bright bulb of red that made up its head before he unleashed his overload program, his gun resounding just after. The shields were brought down, but its armor was entirely too thick to truly put it down, despite the closeness of the shots. Three holes dented into its side and chest, and it swiveled a hateful crimson stare his way. If only it were just the glare, as its massive shotgun came to bear along with it.

K just laughed in its face as he awaited for what came next.

Click. Sputter. Click.

The geth pulled the trigger, only for the shotgun to become a metal-laden noodle in his arms. Shame their weapons were so prone to short-circuiting after a simple overload. "Watch out." K warned, moments before a blur of blue slammed into it, stuttering it backward as Shepard's now-appearing form buried two full shotgun blasts into its chest.

With her latest victim spasming its final moments, she turned her head towards her newest ally. "You alright?"

Rolling a shoulder, the burning at his side still flared up with the movement but the warmth of the medigel kept it at bay. "Nothing gel can't fix…" Revolver spun around a finger in show, he tipped a nonexistent hat to her and promptly sprang over his cover to blow the head off of a geth looking to follow up the juggernaut's charge forward.

Shepard just smirked to herself as Williams and Alenko rejoined them, the latter of the three stopping to take care of another bomb nearby.

Another rocket from the gunnery chief slammed into a juggernaut's side, taking it and its two partners out in one brilliant explosion. Shepard took two geth head-on, dusting one with her shotgun while the other had its long-necked flashlight head crushed in a miniature biotic field; her fist clenching around air to emphasize how she desperately she wanted to do it with her own bare hands.

Kaiden was forced to take cover from three geth rifleman, peppering his location after he revealed himself with a biotic pull. This allowed K to pick them off with his revolver before having to duck alongside the lieutenant.

"You got any 'nades?" The sniper asked, daring to sneak a glance over cover and receive several rounds nearly perforating his dome for his trouble. "Cause they're in deep like a tick over there."

The biotech took a deep breath, forcing something from a canister down his throat; something to help with the stain extended usage of biotics put on the body. "No, I'm all out. You?"

"Wouldn't have asked if I did." He quipped back, almost insulted by the inanity of the question. He began looking around, seeing the two women tearing through a squad of geth on the opposite flank; they could wait for them and attack the geth holdouts as one force but time was of the essence. Thinking outside the box was crucial here.

His eyes scanned the crates and cargo surrounding them, suddenly very interested in a stockpile of cannisters nearby. One was brought over for Kaiden to peruse, and though it couldn't be seen, K had a grin that would put most vidscreen villains to shame.

"You're crazy." Kaiden spoke immediately upon seeing the markings familiar to Helium-3 starship fuel.

"Like a fox, now just huck it."

"No way, we wait for the commander." Daring to scan their environs, Kaiden could only see Shepard and Ashley forced back from a nearby bombsite by the entrenched position.

"You huck it, or I do." A maniacal chuckle followed his singsong threat, "And I guarantee you, that I won't make it as far...probably blow us both up." A hand gripped the fuel, hefting it like one would a shotput.

"Y...You're goddamn insane!"

"Only way to live!" The sniper cackled, taking a few steps back and adjusting himself. Before Kaiden could protest further, K ran forward several steps. With one mighty heft and a cackle, sent the payload flying just far enough to hit the halfway point between them and the geth. Just before it could slam into the deck, it became alight in blue, rocketing like a pinpoint missile for the makeshift bunker.

"Nice." K said in a low tone, drawing his sidearm and putting a high-powered round into its top.

What followed next was a blazing blue flash of fire, the resounding crack of explosive flame turning those just outside the blast radius scrambling to cover their ears. Streaks of aqua-colored flame darted around the melting geth at its epicenter, eagerly following the trails of fuel to begin eating through whatever material was nearby. The geth didn't stand a chance in its midst.

K looked at the destruction at hand, shrugging nonchalantly. "See, nothing to-"

The following creaks cut short his gloating, as the support for that section of the pathway gave way to the consuming flame that tore through it. What remained of that portion of spaceport crumbled into the trench below in a cacophonous screeching of metal. The two men peered over at what happened, somewhat awestruck by the sight.

It was a moment before they remembered where they were, K seemingly just grinning madly as he leapt over his cover and cackling all the while. "Hot damn, that was a show."

Kaiden grumbled something under his breath, moving to follow.

"**K. Friendly reminder…**" Shepard appeared on his communicator, voice stern and dangerously low like a growl. "**We're here to save this colony, not burn it to the ground.**" One time thing then, he did not care to see that woman's shotgun pointed his way.

Still, some part of him deep down felt like poking this bear. "Got it, not to the ground. I'll stop burning it halfway down then." He could almost feel the glares burning into the back of his skull, threatening to burn right through. Thankfully, they'd have to look elsewhere to do that as he shimmered from sight to scout ahead.

"**Smartass.**" Shepard commented, the sternness from before had lightened to a degree. The humor was there, but was forced back behind the need for a respect for the chain of command. Just on the verge of a laugh, but choked out and set aside.

Forging ahead, it seemed the team was finally on the cusp of the spaceport itself. Emerging from the tramway tracks was a large station set against the green horizon of Eden Prime, treetops hanging over the cusp of where the concrete ended. A VIP dock, given the picturesque view and the surrounding ports being sealed with more security than an asari brothel on the Citadel; peeks through the viewports revealed skycars and starships that would be as cost-effective purchases a small fleet of fighters or a military cruiser. Their owners probably wished they had spent their credits on the latter, however, given that it was most likely them and whatever personnel with them that were now hoisted high atop the mechanical spikes from before. Six high, with another eight or so mindlessly roaming the area. An area with not only a massive glowing obelisk the same he had seen before pass by during the geth's parade honoring Saren; but also, as his omni-tool told him, the last two bombs to ensure the Beacon's destruction with not a single scrap of it remaining.

His cloak began to dissipate, the warning timer on his HUD ticking down crucial seconds as he slipped into one of the spaceport's alleyways and tucked himself behind a parked skycar. Probably belonged to the employees given its disrepair, but it was solid enough to provide cover should the husks spot him.

"Hey, Shep." A whisper into his communicator, "Got eyes on your Beacon, and the bombs...but you're not going to like this…" His head gently leaned out, mentally tallying the former humans once more. "...Cause we have a big ol' party around it, count at least...fourteen of those...cyber zombies ...around it." A sudden chirping caught his ear, ducking down in time to elude a pair of geth on patrol, these two bearing high-powered sniper rifles. "With a side of geth snipers, two."

"**Shit.**" Came the first response, silence following Shepard's curse. It was several moments before she spoke again, "**Alright, plan time. We're going to funnel as many of those...husks? Husks sound good. We're going to bottleneck them through the entrance here, your job is to take out those snipers and then provide cover from the back.**"

"Ooh fun. Sniper Season is my favorite hunting time." A tittering quip came as he watched the geth stroll on past, shifting back towards the Beacon. "So what's the signal?"

As soon as the question was asked, two figures popped out at the entrance; Shepard howled to catch all those gathered attention before unleashed controlled blasts from her assault rifle. Ashley was right at her side, sending a charged round to blast apart one of the newly coined husks. There was a sudden chorus of cyberized screeching, shrieking in unison over new prey that they immediate began hurriedly shambling towards. The geth both vanished into cover the second danger reared its head.

"I guess that is." Words to no one as he drew his pistol, slipping from sight.

The cloak wrapped around him, a familiar blanket that allowed him to shadow the walls of the private ports towards the sniper nest. The two geth had chosen another skycar as their base, close to one of the bombs. One had risen up, rifle at the ready and zeroing in just as the two humans were beginning to fall back to the chokepoint.

K reappeared, revolver blaring in fury; a poetic irony shot in the back for the geth who planned the same. It lets out a sputter as its metallic spine shatters from the round, but still managing to stand. Another shot to the collar made it stay still. Its partner rounded around, firing point blank at the would-be ambushed. The bullet wound wide, allowing K to charge forward with his blade at the ready; another shot would be easy enough, but then if a husk found him during this, it would need cooling down. Tangoing with a geth personally was preferable to a husk as a dance partner. The katar shot out in a wide arc, catching the rifle and part of its synthetic hand, sending them clattering off. The geth sputtered for a moment, its mind calculating odds and variables in nanoseconds. Its remaining hand shot out for the blade-wielding arm, clutching it like a vice. Unexpectedly, it wheeled around, forcing itself behind the rogue, wrenching his arm into a painful lock against his back. It laid into the back of his knee, far more forceful and painful than one would assume of the plastic-looking robots. K gritted his teeth, twisting his body just enough to bring his revolver against his ribs. The resounding blast freed the deathgrip on his arm, or rather the force behind it as its hand still wrapped around him. It flopped free in the air, its owner spasming over the loss of another hand (and most of its forearm). Whirling upward, the omni-blade buried itself under what could be its chin and popped out the top of its head like a glowing sharpened zit. K pulled his arm downward, peeling its snake-head like an emptied banana peel. An explosion rocked nearby, as husk parts went flying. Ashley must be loving that new toy.

No time to revel in the victory as his rifle was produced, taking up the snipers' position. Shepard and the others had already wiped out a good portion of them, but the spiked ones had already surged forward to join the fray. Easy enough to set up and begin potshotting; one had half its head decorate the wall with the first shot, a second had its neck vanish as the round blew through it. A few wheeled around to look for this new threat, howling when they saw the glint of a scope. Number three sported a nice new chest cavity while his a few of his buddies wheeled around to charge at K's position.

The Naginata was overheating already, and his pistol was still cooling down. The box to think outside of was shrinking fast as four husks screamed towards him. A few steps backward and he would be at the ledge, and what a step that was, a good thirty foot drop before you hit another patch of concrete bordering the greenery; probably some sort of supply shelter below. Heels right on the edge, he awaited their approach like cornered prey. One howled when it reached the top of the skycar, perched atop like a manic cybernetic squirrel. Two screeched around the corner, full sprint for him as the perched one pounced from its position.

If only they could process his shit-eating grin. He tilted backward, ass over end as the airborne one sailed over him, the other two running into each other and stumbling over the railing after him.

As he fell along with the three, his arm pulled taunt against the grappling line set to the railing, his arms outstretched to hang on as he swung along the wall. The three husks fell screaming, mostly at him rather than out of fear, only silent when the crunches sounded as he swung back to safety.

Clambering back up to the edge, he looked over to see the ravenous horde quite thinned out already; seeing another missile slam into the throng sealed that deal. A few follow-up blasts of gunfire handled any stragglers, him at work on a bomb when the rest arrived. Kaiden split off towards the other bomb, leaving the ladies alone to investigate the Beacon.

The interface was relatively simple, nothing he couldn't crack; the geth hadn't anticipated interference so they hadn't concocted any cyberdefenses or failsafes for the bombs. They just armed them and set them on a timer.

Which currently had thirty seconds before he shut it down. A little too close for his comfort. A sigh of relief came over him as the timer blipped out of existence, a hand lifting to his ear.

"**All good here, Commander**." Kaiden managed to get in before he could speak.

"Same here, Shep." He managed out, moving to join them at their primary objective. Now that he looked at it without the adrenaline pumping, something about it seemed off.

"It wasn't doing that when they dug it up." Ashley interjected, taking a step towards it.

K folded his arms, lifting a hand to rest his chin on. "Yeah, it wasn't nearly as bright when they paraded past me."

Shepard turned to Kaiden, "Radio the Normandy, tell them the Beacon is secure...and about Nihlus."

"You got a ride out of here, Shep?"

"Yes, the SS Normandy. It's how we dropped in here without that dreadnought noticing us." Her attention now on him, Kaiden turning onto some private channel to speak through.

"Cool, frigate I take it?" A nod, "Perfect, I take it there's room enough for mine aboard it. Dak should be bringing it along shortly provided he hasn't gotten into any trouble."

"I was wondering where-" A sudden flash broke off her words, the beacon becoming more like its namesake with an emerald show of light rivaling a star in strength. Everyone averted their eyes, their visors even having little effect on the brightness. Through the spots in his eyes, one could make one Ashley moving closer to the light rather than away from it.

No, not moving...being dragged towards it.

"Williams!" Shepard dashed past both him and Kaiden, seizing the gunnery chief around her waist and chucking her, heavy armor and all, like a discus with her biotics. With a heavy thud, Ashley fell right before them both but now Shepard was the one slowly being pulled closer, and upward, towards the apex of the Beacon.

"Commander!" Cried out Ashley, who strove to find her feet again with intent to charge and save her savior.

Only for her efforts to met with a stern grip, damn fool would just get herself killed. "Don't run back in there after she saved your ass!" K warned above the growing din of the Beacon charging up.

The three of them could only watch as the commander levitated before the jade-colored sun, the shadow of her body spasming as a twitching eclipse. Thankfully she wasn't screaming, maybe she wasn't in pain when she finally goes.

In the middle of a silent prayer to the deceased, the Beacon grew cold, an invisible plug being pulled as it went dark. Shepard's body plummeted before it, still twitching.

"Shepard!" Kaiden yelled, running forward to cradle the woman. "Shepard! Speak to me, c'mon…" He almost pleased, running his omni-tool over her, Ashley came right after, stopping at her other side.

K, on the other hand, strolled up as nonchalant as you please, entirely nonplussed. "Huh, she still alive?"

He could have sworn Kaiden's glare would have set him on fire right then and there if it could have. "She's...alive, but her readings are just...we need to get on the Normandy."

Ashley sprang up, "You said you have a ship, can it pick us up?"

A finger-gun was his first response, "Yep." The finger tuned to his communicator, "Dak, how's the ship?"

"**Captain. Designate DAK has successfully reintegrated with the vessel.**" Came the VI's voice, "**Awaiting further instruction.**"

"Good work. Lock onto my position and pick us up." With that, he shot a thumbs-up. "He's got my ship, should be here in a few minutes." This seemed to calm her down somewhat, her eyes drifting back to the downed commander.

Kaiden had unsealed her helmet, and what spilled out was a quaff of vibrant red hair; darkly crimson that framed a pale-white and freckled face. A strong jawline with a pointed chin, a pair of thin lips pinched shut as her face contorted now and again. She looked fair daintier than she sounded, that's for sure.

Everyone's attention diverted from Shepard for a moment as the Beacon began to glow again. Tension rose, fight or flight instinct kicking in at the thought of another one of them taken like Shepard was.

A crack ran up its side then. Then a split that jagged up its base, followed by a massive fissure along its spine. More and more the thing started to do its best impression of frozen ice being picked at, the smaller cracks joining to become massive ones that glowed with the same sickly green energy as before. Soon, the glow began to grow harsher and harsher.

"Woah."

"Get down!" K could barely hear the warning, entranced like a firefly to a mate would be to the Beacon. He did feel when the hundred plus pounds of gear and marine muscle that was Ashley slam into him and cover his body like a security blanket. The Beacon let loose one single pulse, calming for just a second before exploding into microscopic dust that scattered to the winds. Barely a piece remained that was usable, or even recognizable, save for its smoking base.

Ashley clung to him, remaining deathly still for several seconds before deigning to lift her head. The Beacon was gone; the only remnant now a sputtering blackened paperweight. She turned back to see the courier she had risked herself to protect facing her dead-on.

"Yanno, I knew you wanted to jump me, didn't think it would happen so abruptly, gunnery chief." His smarmy tone spoke of the lecherous smile under his mask. He could almost make out a blush before he was unceremoniously thrown back against the concrete as she stood. "What, no cuddles after? So cold."

The roar of engines stole his attention, as the familiar dull hull of his ship closed in above them. Kicking up dust and debris (including some loose body parts), the bottom-heavy transport deployed its landing gear and squatted near the Beacon's resting place.

"All aboard who's coming aboard." K shouted, casually making his way over to where the frog-mouth-like cargo door opened up into his makeshift home. Kaiden and Ashley worked on hoisting Shepard between them.

"Home sweet home." Passing through the random assortments of various cargo, K peels off his helmet and sets it aside to hoist himself into the cockpit.

Setting Shepard into one of the oversized seats, the two marines flank her to hold her steady. "What the hell kind of ship is this?" Her eyes glaze over the multitude of lockboxes, and sees the still form of Dak at rest beside a terminal.

"Looks krogan." Kaiden speaks up, looking at the seats and how they were like children in them. "Probably from the Rebellion, I'd wager." His attention shifts back to SHepard, focusing on her for but a moment longer before moving up into the cockpit after K.

At his seat, K's console has begun lighting up in the process of sealing his ship ready for takeoff. "So, Mr. Alenko, where's your frigate in orbit? I'm picking it up anywhere." The ship lurched awake, lurching upward like an overweight pelican.

"Joker, you read me? I'm patching you through to the pilot of our ride." Kaiden seemingly ignoring the question as he tweaked with his tool. A new screen appeared on the console, this one static until a new voice came with it.

"**-our ride? Wow, I think you would have had a better chance getting atmo with a balloon.**" The voice dripped with satirical humor. A pause followed before, "**You already patched me through didn't you.**"

"Joker was it?" K piped up, steering towards the sky. "Nice to know your name. For no reason, of course. I'm simply looking forward to meeting you. In person. Maybe alone." He could swear he heard this Joker swallow hard. "Oh I'm just playing, hey, where am I taking my rust bucket to? I don't have you on radar."

"**Right, punching coordinates in now. Dock at Heading 081, and don't scuff the paint, she's new.**"

A new ping arrived, signaling the direction. Banking right, K pressed a button where the hologram of Dak appeared. "Dak, you read anything yet?"

"**No, Captain. Nothing on- False. An Alliance frigate has appeared at the designated location**."

"What? It just...popped out?"

Kaiden folded his arms, looking a little smug. "You're about to dock on the Alliance's most advanced vessel, fresh out of Arcturus. I'd be surprised if your VI picked it up even if you were next to it."

"Aha. That's how you all slipped in. New stealth ship...but on a frigate...huh. That's new." He shrugged it off, breaking through the cloud cover.

There, awaiting in the sky, was a sleek curved ship; hybrid of turian and human design, it seemed. The colors were ALliance, but the bulk of its main area spoke Hierarchy. Four engines at its rear, spitting blue fire as it awaited its new vessel. A hatch opened in its belly, the go-ahead given. A tight fit given the bulky transport, but it managed in fit enough next to what seemed like an all-terrain assault transport; the sole mechanical occupant of this hangar.

There were, however, plenty of living occupants there at the moment; all armed and garbed in typical Alliance regalia. With the hatch closing behind them, the transport's slid open with less ease given its age. Kaiden and Ashley were already halfway down with Shepard in tow.

Both hoisted the unconscious commander onto a stretcher manned by two crewmen, flanked by a silver cougar of a doctor. K watched them depart at a hurried pace, presumably to the infirmary on this frigate. Two steps off his ship, he was stopped by two marines in armor the color of Kaiden's but the heavier sets of Ashley; typical grunts, it seems.

With hands barely up, he let them search him; removing his pistol and rifle. "Should buy a fella dinner before you take him like this." He mused idly, feeling them pat him down with one running his omni-tool over him.

"Have to take precautions with a dead man." A voice sounded from behind him. Deep, reverberating, commanding; the voice of a man who could order krogans to dance in circles with nary a complaint. K turned his head back barely, trying to confirm the source. Standing just at his flank was a man in the garb of a high-ranking Alliance officer. He bore some pockmarks around his face, showing age had begun to set in. A thin curtain of hair stuck to his pale chocolate skin, with squinted eyes of hazel staring right into him.

"...Anderson." K could only stammer out.

"Kel Lakota." The captain returned. "You're eight years late reporting in, soldier."

"...Shit."


	5. Entry 5: Think On It

**Entry 5**

**Mark 0925 of CE 2183**

**Think On It**

The rumbling around him forced his attention from his daydream, the constant lurching of this cramped space was beginning to wear thin. He clenched a fist, bearing the armor those dismal shades of Alliance blues and blacks; made him look like a bruise. He always thought that, damned if he couldn't be put in a squad with a more acceptable palette.

The fist rattled against the back of a seat turned away from him, "Dingo, how much longer we have in this damn chop? My lunch is going to repaint your shuttle."

Turning back now was a face usually only supermodels wore; high cheekbones with a perfect curvature of cheeks down to a rounded and petite chin. Bright green eyes blinked backward from underneath a deep blue cap, a smile on her pouty lips. She turned away from him, twirling a short blonde pigtail as she focused forward on a cramped cockpit's cyberized console and the viewport it sat in front of. "We're almost there, ya big ninny. An' if you chunder in my baby, I'm makin' you clean it."

"Ten creds say he upchucks." A gruff voice broke into the conversation, a mass of muscle on the opposite of him folding massive plated arms, the picture of relaxation in this mess. He smiled a broken grin, his growl-like laughter slipping through the gaps in his teeth. Sun-kissed cream skin hiding behind a mess of brown hair; a mop of ragged brown hair on his dome-like skull with a bearded curtain of chestnut shag over his thick jaw.

"That's a sucker's bet, Bulldog." Another feminine voice cut in, the seat next to him being filled. A tall figure with dancer's legs propped one against the other took a light helmet from her side, casually inspecting it. Eyes of sparkling brown turned to him, the cheshire glance accentuated with her thin eyes that gave her the air of a cat seeing a canary. Painted lips of ruby red flashed a glimpse of ivory teeth that clashed against the deep umber of her skin. Brushing a loose lock of ebony hair whose ends tickled against her ears, "Snipers need their steady nests, after all."

"I'll take that bet." From the back came a chipper voice, an omni-tool flaring to life to illuminate a thin man with a hawkish face, clean-shaven to reveal perky lips and a slight overbite. His eyes hidden behind a set of dark-framed goggles that wrapped around a pale dome of hairless scalp. "Don't listen to Jackal, man. She's just mad that she had to be the damsel in distress back on Tyr."

A snap of Jackal's fingers silenced anything further. "I don't remember asking for your input, Dhole."

"Fight, fight, fight, fight!" Dingo cried from the cockpit, cackling all the while; even more so when Bulldog stamped his feet and joined in.

"Enough!" A stern voice cut through the malarky, as a figure shifted from the door panel. Hands on her broad hips, a matronly figure of muscle lurking under heavy armor. Bright baby blues played the part of an ocean at calm before a storm. A stern grimace was painted on her plush lips as her eyes peered around each of those around her. A red headband tied firmly against her forehead, the scarlet bright against her chocolate skin and peppered hair, loosely tied into a ponytail that skirted around her collarbone. "We're almost at the dropoint, so save it for whatever's down there." Her eyes stopped at her sniper, who nonchalantly hoisted his Naginata. "Coyote, you ready to drop?"

A smirk from the young man was his first response, lifting a helmet to cover his head. "Yes, Commander Wolfe."

"Commander, I'm pickin' something weird up on the scanners." Dingo called out, a hand to her ear, prompting the officer to stride forward, leaning into the pilot's space.

"What is it?"

"Dunno yet. It's not a ship, at least I don't think it is. It's givin' a signal but no- SHIT!" The shuttle lurched, far more violent than mere turbulence, as the flare of an explosion let loose a vibrant purple discharge off the portside.

"Evasive action! Canis Squad, BUCKLE UP!" Wolfe ordered, shifting to a seat much like the others did the second she spoke.

Another explosion, the shuttle suddenly dipping forward. "Shit! We're hit! Engines down, I can't get a response!"

"Hold on!"

"Hold on!" "Hold on!"

"Hold on!"...

"Hold on now." Anderson's voice broke through, everything from before had vanished; the dingy barred cell he now sat in a long way from the shuttle that he pictured. The thought was thrown away, stare focusing upward at the captain from behind the bars. "I'm not done yet with these…"

The captain brought up his omni-tool, hovering several screens, each with a name and accompanying information scrolling down its entirety. "Kam Jefferson was it? Courier who operates on the fringe of Alliance space…" His hand waved, sending it off to bring up another. "Kurtis LeGrange, former Eclipse member turned freelancer, known for working mostly corporate mercenary work." Another wave, "Keaton Summers, red sand smuggler from Omega." A fourth, "Killian Marx. Data thief from the Citadel...and one of the few people to have the death penalty by the hanar."

Kel lifted a cuffed hand, "Oh man, that's a fun story. It involves a gay krogan, two kegs of batarian ale, and the ambassador's skycar-"

A fist pounds on the wall, resounding throughout the small chamber. Anderson clenched his hand, staring deep ahead. He bore right into the bragging prisoner's eyes, the cybernetic blues freezing for a moment under them "What? I thought you wanted a story?" A grin flashed, and he could swear he could see Anderson contemplating just chucking him out the airlock for good measure. His hands folded back into his lap, his face the picture of a compliant prisoner.

"That's not what I wanted to hear." Anderson spoke, regaining himself with his arms folding back behind him. "You and Canis Squad vanished over eight years ago, not a trace was found except the remains of your shuttle...why?"

A smirk formed, eyes lackadaisical in their glance upwards. "No idea."

That stare narrowed, "Then where is the remainder of your squad? Commander Wolfe? Have they too been in hiding?"

"Second verse. Same as the first." Kel tiredly sang, chortling at some unknown joke.

"Damnit, Lakota…" Anderson growled, shaking his head. "You're not making this easy for me. I'm trying to help you, son...I need answers to do that."

"Those are the answers I have to those questions, Captain." The reply came with a shift of his position, one leg now crossing over the other. "You want an answer? They're all dead. Every one of them."

"Then why didn't you report this back?"

"Like I said, because they're all dead." Kel shot back, his smirk slowly fading. "I had no reason to." His form hunched backward, looking almost tired from the talk.

Anderson kept his eyes on the man in his brig, watching him deflate but barely. No smarm like the other times he had asked, no indications he was being facetious. The captain softened for a moment, taking a breath. "Lakota. I believe you."

A dry laugh sounded inside the cell. "Do you? Or do you want me to believe you so you can have my testimony?"

"Both."

The honest, vague answer intrigued Kel enough to lift his head, and reaffirm the eyelock they had. "Oh?"

"Right now, what you witnessed...it's bigger than a squad of potential deserters. A rogue Spectre turning traitor and killing his own comrade, and assaulting a human colony unprovoked." The captain turned, staring off to some unknown point of space that lay beyond the bars of the cell. "Saren is a danger to the whole human race. He hates us, Lakota. Hates what we can do and who we are...and now he has...something from this Beacon along with an army of geth and a superweapon that outsizes any of our dreadnoughts." His eyes meet Kel's once more, fierce in their determination. "That's why I'm willing to negotiate a full pardon with Ambassador Udina for your testimony against Saren."

One blink, two. Few times nowadays he could be genuinely surprised, dropping the facade to stare at the captain.

"But also...if Commander Wolfe was still alive. I imagine you wouldn't be off galavanting the galaxy." Anderson stated, the firmness of his commanding voice softened with empathy. "So, that's why I'm giving you this chance to wipe your slate clean. You help us, we help you…" He turned to leave, "Then you can go back to your life as it is." With that, he meandered away out of sight, eyes tracing his path through the walls with each step. He knew Anderson had gone when the sound of doors sliding echoed back to him. Only then did he remove his stare from its place, guiding it to the ground in contemplation.

Silently going over his options, Kel looked to his wrist to activate- no, wait, they had confiscated his omni-tool. His weapons sat with it in some locker, most likely somewhere in the armory and out of grasp. Cyberized blues glanced up and around his small cell, obviously not made for long-term detainment. It lacked the room necessary for anything but perhaps stretching, as well as basic plumbing; necessary precautions for a brig on a stealth frigate, he supposed. Wouldn't do for a smart detainee to use anything at hand to ruin the ship. His fingers rapped in a steady rhythm against the none-too-comfortable seating given; the only thing to do was to let his mind wander idly for the time being, at least until such a time he could slip through any such crack. If Anderson was able to finger him, that would mean a shitstorm was en route; how much would that Alliance pardon hold up outside human space? If he was outed through his identities, that would spell trouble with a capital T. The last thing he wanted was people after him; the hanar would dispatch drell after Killian, Eclipse commandos would be hot on Kurt's trail, and he doubted Keaton would be forgiven by the batarian cartels so easily. Mashed into one person if that knowledge became public?

A shudder came over him thinking about who would find him first. He was completely at the Alliance's mercy; and Anderson knew it with those dossiers he pulled, must have had a tech expert pour through his tools before meeting him in the brig. The feeling of being cornered made him claustrophobic, the walls around him closing in to loom as though taking the place of those he had crossed, shadows ready to pounce.

The door shifting open broke the tension in his mind, sharp and fierce steps reverberating at a brisk pace, someone was in a hurry to get to him. A man on a mission, it seemed.

Or rather, a woman as the good gunnery chief appeared in his field of view; for once, sans her helmet, revealing a tight-knit bun of black hair. Her eyes centered on him, locked with words ready to fire a devastating barrage of verbal munitions to break him apart as easily as her rifle did geth.

"You son of a bitch..." The first salvo was a classic, it seemed.

Leaning back in his cell, at rest with legs idly hanging in either direction with hands loose on his lap; the picture of defeat in all but his cocky grin, his eyes reflecting that cheshire smile as they dimmed but slightly. "Chief Williams, such harsh language. I thought we were friends."

The bars were probably the only thing keeping her from throttling him. "I don't make friends with smugglers. You and goddamn Powell…" She said sternly, looking to continue before he interrupted her.

"Ah ah ah," He said, fingers splaying as he held them up to stop her next round of accusations. "I was no smuggler then, I was paid to watch over my good friend, and come now, speaking so ill of the dead? Tsk tsk, Ashley." He waggled a finger, taunting her with faux discipline; he could swear he could see actual flames in her stare, threatening to burn him through.

"You're lucky Anderson said I couldn't toss you out the airlock."

"I am indeed." His tone dripped in sarcasm, the smirk he bore just adding fuel onto the fire. "So blessed am I in these times."

Ashley tensed her fists together, obviously growing more irritated just looking at him. "If I ever find you outside this cell, I'll-"

"You'll dance with me!" He shot back, the unexpected outcry throwing her train of thought off its rails. "No? You'll, hmm, you'll gimme a pity HJ? Ooh, you'll lend me that missile launcher you got? That would be a lovely present...No? Wait I can guess."

It was unclear if her face was reddening by sheer force of anger or by the embarrassment of not having her threats be taken seriously. WIth a grunted "Asshole," she trudged off to parts unknown to vent that frustration.

"Hate to see you leave!" He called after her, "But loooovve to watch you go!" The catcall earned him a final death glare from the gunnery chief as she vanished beyond the rounded doors. The guard threw out a warning at him being so close to his bars, but it was waved off as he meandered back to his thinking spot.

With knees drawn, he laid his elbows upon them to rest his head between his palms; the stance of a bored ponderer. His mind began to drift, no stimulation to serve as an anchor for his now-drifting thoughts. One thought seeped through the others, spurred on by the words of Anderson just before Williams' tirade.

Conjuring pictures of metal-lined walls, much like the cell he sat in, save these were far more open; the wall phasing out to reveal the vastness of space laying just beyond a mass of curved transparent material. Grey spearhead shapes drifted just in the distance, tiny flecks of metal buzzing around them in tight knit formations. Alliance cruisers and frigates with their herds of fighters, ever on patrol here on Arcturus. He couldn't help but trace each fighter with his eyes, the ghostly shape of his own face staring back at him. Hazel dots tracing each Trident; funny, it had slipped his mind that his eyes were not always the neon blue orbs he saw in the mirror every day, the few gifts he ever got from Mom.

Footsteps nearby stole his attention. A constant march, a stop, then back again. An endless loop that would see no end until something intervened.

"Hey," The view of space was thrown away, opting instead on focusing on the noise behind him. "Would you relax? You're stressing me out."

The armored blonde woman set a hand to her hip, only then deciding that her hat needed adjusting. "You should be, why aren't you?!" And back to her waist they go, a faux display of power over him. That soon died out when she threw her hands in the air and resumed her pacing, "My career is over!"

Rolling those chocolate eyes, his arms folded around one another as he leaned backward to press himself onto the reinforced material. "You honestly think the Commander is going to sell us out? Get a grip." His attention shifted to his unkempt fingernails, a frown forming at an uneven cuticle jutting out on his pinkie.

"Oh, get a grip, get a grip he says!" She touted, arms flailing upward before she puts a hand to her head, trying in vain to stave off an oncoming headache. "I think I'm gettin' a migraine from all this mess…"

Returning with a snigger under his breath, Kel just watched her break down from the stress. A comment brewed on his tongue, ready to be unleashed; only for the sound of doors sliding open cut him off to reveal two figures marching out of it. On one side, the armored and stern figure of Commander Kassandra Wolfe, her helmet tucked under an arm at her side. Alongside her was the man responsible for the charges levied against them for their most recent debacle, his pressed uniform adorned with medals and emblems few could achieve in a lifetime. The legendary Captain Anderson marched with a calm purpose, chilled anger floating behind his stare at Wolfe and her cohorts.

"Another stunt like that back there and I will let the vultures have you, Wolfe." He commented as they exited. "Terra Nova has enough cause to want your head on a spike."

Wolfe turned, meeting Anderson's stare with her own, "Permission to speak freely, sir?" Her tone suggested she would speak with or without, but the captain merely nodded his head. "I don't tolerate political bullshit. That rep had it coming."

"And you decided the best course of action was to give him a broken jaw in front of an Admiral." Anderson spoke dryly, unimpressed. "You're not making this easy on me, Kassandra."

"Easy's not my style." She shot back, looking at her two troops who were so quietly observing their conversation that they seemed out of place without popcorn for the show. When Wolfe's eyes landed, both immediately shot into position and saluted. A wave of her hand relieved them, "Where are the others?"

"They went to grab some water, ma'am." Kel spoke up, relaxing his stance to once again lean on the window. His stare wandered over to Anderson next, casually observing the man. He had seen the captain several times before, ever since he had joined Canis Squad; a man that few seemed able to stand alongside as equals. He couldn't quite put a pin on what exactly he felt whenever he came into a room; it was almost a presence of sorts, the kind that took control of an entire room and demanded it acquiesce. Not the authoritarian attitude of most other officers, but more of a sanctioned elder in a religious community; it wasn't fear that kept the ranks in file, but rather the sense of respect that came from years of experience.

Kel merely smirked his way, "Captain, good to see you. How's it look?"

"Lakota, I won't lie, it doesn't look good." His head shook slightly, like a parent speaking of how his children misbehaved. "Your case is blown ten ways to Sunday, eleven now…" his eyes betrayed him that moment, shooting towards Wolfe. "Unless you can provide any additional testimony to-"

"I stand by the commander's words." The answer came firm, resolute with no room to maneuver around. He didn't care what Terra Nova thought, what the Admirals thought, what the Alliance thought; their words weren't law. The only law that mattered was Canis', was the Commander's; and hang all those who would throw her to the wolves for doing her damn job.

Anderson sighed, "That's what I thought, and you, Lieutenant Quinson?"

Dingo gulped silently, wavering under the gaze. "...I...I do as w-well, sir."

A rare smirk emerged from the Commander as she marched past the two, "Fall in, we're getting the others."

"Hold on a damn moment, Wolfe!" Anderson bellowed the second she began to leave. "Where do you think you're going? You leave, they'll just use it against you!"

Wolfe didn't stop, merely reattaching her helmet as her synthesized voice came through its communicators. "I have orders. Hackett already signed off on them, you want to stop me? Go through him."

"Damnit, Kass!" His shout stopped her for a moment, "Stop and think about this! You're going to throw everything away! For you and your squad!"

Her head craned back for a moment, the dark visor letting her peer back at him. Kel stood at her side, his own helmet secured. He could see the eyes behind that sheet of glass narrow back in contempt. "I'm doing what I must for them." The march continued, Kel following silently behind alongside Dingo.

In his cell, Kel couldn't help letting a smile grow from that, Commander Wolfe never let anyone step on her or her squad. She did everything in her power to stop whatever shitstorm was flying their way from that mission on Terra Nova. To Hell and back for them. His smirk diminished when the face of it all reared its ugly head; all that still didn't save them, or her. His hands rubbed down his cheeks, dragging the whole of his face down with them as they slid.

This is what happened when he couldn't do something. He thought too much. He pondered too much.

It was awful.

With a low bang, the back of his head slammed onto the cell wall behind him. How long had he sat in here for? It was beginning to feel like hours, but considering the guard hadn't even left for a replacement or really had done anything but stand there...it was probably just a few minutes, maybe twenty if he's lucky. His mind began to track the distance between Eden Prime and the Citadel; considering the former's bordering on the Traverse, would be quite the trip. Probably less than a day cycle aboard the ship, sooner if this ship was as fast as Kaiden hyped it up to be.

Another thought wormed its way into his brain, a brief pang of curiosity over Shepard came. Whatever the Beacon had done to her, it probably fried some of her brain; she'd probably be lucky to still have motor functions after this. Though if any human could survive a Prothean mind bomb it would be an N7 commando; they were forged through hellfire enough to withstand punishment that would make your average soldier dead or crippled beyond repair. A slow comparison formed in his mind; the images of Wolfe and Shepard crossed over one another. They had similar personalities; a certain robust and impatient kindness tempered by a ferocious temper and drive to succeed, the kind of commander who soldiers threw themselves at to help or hinder. The former would receive praise and respect, the latter would be mowed down one way or another.

Shifting himself once to try in vain to get comfier, he found himself with his feet occupying the seat with his back on the floor; eyes transfixed on the ceiling. A huff of air was blown through puffed cheeks, arms flopping above him.

"Boooooorrrreeeeeedddddd…" He called out to no one, the guard seemingly quiet. "Heeyyyyy! Guy at the door, got a magazine or something? I'm bored!" His head tipped backward, letting his gaze fall to the bars now, though now upside down.

"Shut up."

"You're no fun." He sings, feeling a new game come on. "I'll just have to entertain myself!" The announcement came with a clearing of his throat. What followed was the most offbeat, tuneless singing that only could be described as screeching to an unfathomable rhythm.

"MOON RIIIVVEERRR!" He belted, loud and proud with no care towards how he sounded. He swear he could hear the marine flinch in horror at what audible torture he was now subject to. "WIDER THAN A MILE~!"

"Quiet down!" The order was lost among his shrieking.

"I'M CROSSING YOU IN STYLE SOME DAY~!"

"I said, quiet down!" Loud footsteps came during his next line. He was getting closer.

""OH DREAM MAKER~! YOU HEART BREAKER~!" A barrel face came into view, clean-cut brown hair set above a thick jaw shaped like a brick, with burning green eyes forcing out his omni-tool.

No helmet, he smiled to himself before shouting again. "WHEREVER YOU'RE GOIN'~!"

The door was opened, the marine looking ready to throttle the upstart criminal. What he didn't expect was the prone figure to twist his body almost unnaturally, contouring like a gymnast to flip himself over and upward. His hands launched him from the ground, a leg rising to sweep right across that thick chin and sending him off-balance. Enough time for Kel to right himself upward and throw his weight into his attacker, using his low center of gravity to slither around his backside. Forced to the ground, Kel put an arm around his throat, feet pinning the man by his shoulders.

"I'm goin'~" He sang, hushed right in the man's ear as he struggled. A beautiful baritone that almost hissed the lyrics, a far cry from the shrill yell-singing that came before. The pressure tightened on the marine's throat, the air leaving him. Silently counting the seconds as the man underneath ceased to struggle.

"Your….way~" The smooth tune came at a count of eleven in his mind, the pressure applied to the neck's arteries now finally doing their work and letting the marine slump in his grasp. Like a snake releasing its prey, he collapsed with an audible thud.

Two fingers pressed next onto his neck, probing for a silent answer. A dull thud pounded, and then another; a pulse, still alive.

Good, Kel thought as he got to work. The ride to the Citadel now more bearable with some entertainment.

A solid few hours passed, relative quiet in the cells. The silence only broke when the door shifted once more to reveal a new figure stepping into the confined space.

Shepard's eyes darted around the hallway; the first stop was the first cell on the brig, which was supposed to be empty according to the vidscreens on the bridge, but now was occupied by a near-naked man with socks wrapped into a gag around his mouth, clothing used to bind his arms behind his back. His armor and weapons lay just outside the bars, which now hummed with energy that blocked any interaction with the inside from where she stood; probably why she couldn't hear his muffled pleas. Instinct took over, her sidearm drawn and readied as she slunk her way to the second cell. The bars were still up, but no energy crossed between them. Her ears strained for any clue as to her target, receiving one in the form of a soft laugh coming from around the corner.

The firearm is brought to bear, the corner cut with precision of a soldier

"Hah!" There, omni-tool in hand and seemingly enjoying himself in a state of incarceration that was far less lenient than what was promised on the bridge's holos, sat Kel; currently enjoying some video involving a sitcom of sorts. The laugh track made it all the more apparent as a turian man emerged stark naked into a crowd of people.

The urge to put a bullet in him for the sheer hell of it tempted Shepard. As the lying bastard who wormed his way into the safety of the Normandy sat watching television; thousands of people were dead in the past few hours and he somehow survived.

"Oh hey Shep, you're up and at'em, nice to-" The Commander instead opted on burying an armored fist into his face instead; a more merciful option. A certain sense of satisfaction came over her, watching the lying prick go ass over kettle from the unexpected blow. A moment passed as he sat back up, rubbing his now-swelling jaw. "The HELL was that for?!"

The only response Shepard gave was a cocked eyebrow.

"Oh. Wait. Don't answer that." Kel hefted himself off the ground, a hand on his chin as he sought to massage it after that blow. "Nice hook, by the way." Already the snake's smile returned, his eyes somehow set to a smarmy stare upon her, despite being cybernetic.

"I can give you another demonstration." The threat was all too real, as she spoke in such a casual tone that only amplified its credibility. Shepard wouldn't growl and snort her anger, she would deliver it like she would smalltalk.

That made it all the more frightening.

Kel took his seat, ever the model prisoner, one leg crossing over the other. "I think one is enough, thanks." Already he began detaching the omni-tool interface from his person, offering it back to Shepard. "Just in case my neighbor would like his back."

That damned smile made her want to make him swallow his teeth. She snatched it back, eyes never leaving him. "We're making landfall at the Citadel in the next hour, there you'll come with me to Ambassador Udina's office to deliver your testimony."

"And then? I walk free as per Anderson's offer, yes?" Kel smiled upward.

"And then you sit in C-Sec's guestrooms until the trial is over and you're cleared." Shepard took no small amount of pleasure at seeing the serpent-like man suddenly blink in surprise.

"Woah woah, that's not the deal...also that's goddamn stupid, C-Sec? Might as well blow a hole in my head now!"

Shepard folded her arms, "If you're afraid of a little time in a cell, maybe it'll do you some good."

Kel rose now, putting the N7 on a defensive posture as he spoke right to her face. "I'm not afraid of Council fuzz, I am afraid of being helpless when Saren sends a squad of silencers to keep me quiet!"

That statement made Shepard pause, a moment to reflect as he continued. "Think about it, Saren's a Spectre yeah? You don't think he has some clout with C-Sec? Hell, **I** can pay off C-Sec. You deliver my report to any one of those crooks, they'll probably let Saren's goons off me as a freebie!"

Shepard measured him, eyes gently tracing his face for the moment. There was no deceit, no trace of the snake-like charisma he exuded. This seemed genuine. At the very least, his opinion had solid ground; a Spectre with Saren's track record would at the very least have spies or informants on the Citadel if nothing else. What could stop him from taking out the man who ratted on him?

"You have a point." She acquiesced, seeing him deflate but barely in relief. "Until Saren's in custody, I'll make sure you're kept safe…" A finger shot up at him then, sternness returning to her stance. "**But**. One step. Just one inch out of line again, and I will make you wish Saren found you back on Eden Prime."

Not wanting to further needle her, Kel held up both hands in surrender before him. "You got it, Shep. Not one foot out of line from here on out."

Shepard kept her gaze on him; unwavering, unflinching, unforgiving. "Good." With that, she finally deigned to step back and out of the cell. He was left back behind bars, as it was before.

Until, the omni-tool landed back in his hands just before the energy of the cell phased to life. Shepard stood just beyond, the very edge of her mouth tilted the slightest bit upward. "I think Private Lancaster lost his omni priveleges for fucking up royally."

Kel couldn't help but chortle at that, installing the device back onto his person.

"And fix the camera system." The order was given as she turned on a heel to stand before the guardsman, poor Private Lancaster was about to get a tongue-lashing.

Kel merely plugged the omni-tool in, and set the music in his ears to full; hopefully drowning out the tirade coming the guard's way.


End file.
